The Worst Intentions
by lemon31
Summary: What if Draco's task was not to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, but instead, to learn Dumbledore's secrets through Harry? Bitter enemies from their first meeting, Draco must find a way to forge a bond with Harry. Slash. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter One

_**Author's notes: **This is an alternative reality fic in which Draco's mission differs from that of J.K Rowling's book. However, some elements of the canon will be used._

**Chapter One**

Not so long ago Draco had eagerly anticipated the freedom of the long summer months after the school term had ended. Now, however, he avoided the expansive, sunlit grounds and chose instead to remain inside the manor. His footsteps echoed on the immaculate stone floor as he made his way across the hallway and up the magnificent staircase. The many portraits lining the walls eyed him haughtily from their frames and he paused for a moment in front of his grandfather's, Abraxas, whose distinctive features bore a striking resemblance to his own.

The instantly recognisable 'pop' of Apparition caught Draco off guard and he spun round to realise with a shiver of dread that Voldemort, who had materialised silently, and Wormtail had entered Malfoy Manor unannounced.

"Surprised to see me, Draco? Or perhaps you, like your father, regret my return?"

Draco's insides clenched as he struggled to keep his mind blank and his mouth became too dry to utter a single word. Voldemort did not appear to require an answer and merely caressed his wand lazily until a door leading from the hallway burst open.

Bellatrix ran with wild abandon towards him and flung herself at his feet, her voice quivering with emotion,

"My lord, there is no greater honour than having you in my family's home. I –"

"That will do, Bella," Voldemort interrupted, but Draco thought he detected slight amusement in the usually unimpassioned voice.

Narcissa followed her sister at a slower pace, but she too knelt and spoke quietly with her eyes averted,

"A pleasure, my lord."

Voldemort appeared to consider her for a moment before stepping past them, speaking in a tone which prevented any argument,

"I require a private talk with Narcissa. You too, Draco."

Draco remained frozen at the top of the stairs, but an almost undetectable nod from his mother made him descend unwillingly to the hallway. As Bellatrix made to follow them, Voldemort raised his pale, long fingered hand.

"I said _only _Narcissa and Draco."

Her expression became mutinous and twisted with envy, but she obeyed his orders and he spoke again dismissively, without even looking over his shoulder,

"Wormtail, you are to go to Spinner's End immediately. Severus is expecting you."

His eyes widening with fear at the thought of spending time alone with Hogwarts' Potions Master, Wormtail bowed and Disapparated.

With a casual flick of his wand, Voldemort secured the door behind Narcissa and Draco and put several anti-eavesdropping charms in place. Draco's whole body was trembling, his jaw clenched painfully tight, as he fought to keep his fear hidden. The dancing flames from the fireplace flickered in Voldemort's penetrating blood-red eyes and when he spoke his voice was so quiet that Draco had to strain to catch the words.

"The Malfoys have long considered themselves to be my most loyal, most dedicated servants, yet their behaviour since my disappearance and subsequent return suggest otherwise. On numerous occasions Lucius has tried his utmost to convince me that his allegiance is unwavering, but now he is safely locked away in Azkaban and perhaps feels relieved to no longer be of use to me."

He paused to gauge their reactions, but Narcissa stared fixedly at the floor and clasped her hands together tightly, so he continued,

"However, he should have known that on entering my service he became irrevocably bound to me and since he is no longer available, his role must fall to someone else."

At this, Narcissa's head jerked up abruptly, her eyes widening with fear as she understood what was to follow. Draco's blood ran cold as unforgiving red eyes met his own grey ones for a second, before he was forced to look away.

"Yes," the word escaped Voldemort's mouth as a hiss. "I have a task for you, Draco, one which is pivotal to my success. There are others who would gladly give up their wands for a chance to serve me in so great a way, but only you can possibly succeed."

Voldemort let his last words hang uncomfortably in the oppressive silence, as if to emphasise that the possibility of failure was far greater than that of success. When he spoke again his tone was sharper as he laid out his plan.

"During the summer before your first year at Hogwarts, your father instructed you to extend a hand of friendship to Harry Potter. Though Lucius attempted to earn my favour by persuading me that he thought a closeness to the Potter boy would prove useful to my return, as with his careless treatment of my diary, he sought only to cultivate his own interests.

Instead, you became bitter enemies with the boy, but now you much seek a bond of sorts that will enable you to learn both his and particularly Dumbledore's secrets. My most powerful servants would not possibly be able to achieve this; the task rests entirely on you. Subtlety and cunning are necessary until Dumbledore is at your mercy."

The snake-like features contorted as he spoke the Headmaster's name and his next words were laced with venom.

"By the end of the year he must be dead by your hand."

At these words Draco broke into a cold sweat, his stomach churning and the bitter taste of bile in his throat. Before he could stop himself, he asked,

"But, how – "

Voldemort appeared to have expected this and answered immediately,

"If you fail or falter at all along the way, the consequences will provide my other servants with a perfect example of what they too would face were they to disobey."

Without warning, Voldemort turned his wand on Narcissa who collapsed on the floor, writhing in agony, her screams of pain reverberating around the room. As pale as his master, Draco stared in horror at his mother, each sound she emitted stabbing him as painfully as if he himself was being tortured.

At last he found his voice, though he could not prevent it from trembling,

"I'll do it, I won't fail."

With another flick of his wand, Voldemort lifted the curse and ignored the crumpled, sobbing wreck on the floor as he focused on Draco. His mouth curved upwards in a cruel, humourless smile before he vanished, his eyes burning into Draco's even as his body disappeared.

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	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

His chess pieces, gobstones set and even his cherished Nimbus Two Thousand and One lay untouched, discarded as he rested his chin on his knees and thought only of the task entrusted to him. Ever since Voldemort's unexpected visit, Draco had withdrawn more and more into himself, often forgoing meals as he racked his brains for a plan of action.

Narcissa had watched him with increasing distress, but he brushed off every gesture she made to comfort him. An hour ago he had overheard a raging argument in which Narcissa had mentioned Snape, causing Bellatrix to shriek that he was no longer trustworthy. They had Disapparated one after another, leaving Draco alone in the manor, curled up on his bed with his arms tightening around his legs at the thought of the pain he would cause his family were he to fail.

Lost in images from his darkest nightmares, he had to forcibly wrenched his mind away from the memory of his mother writhing on the floor which plagued him as equally in his sleep as it did during the day. Draco's eyes flitted across his many possessions at random until he suddenly caught sight of his Hand of Glory resting on the mantelpiece.

A wave of inspiration overtook him and, leaping off his bed, Draco began to pace up and down as the fragile seed of an idea began to grow. Flexing his fingers as he walked, he dared to hope that his plan might actually work.

Voldemort had said to use subtlety and cunning....

…..well, he was a Malfoy after all and they excelled in these qualities.

The task could only be carried out by him.....

…..but the reasoning behind that was obvious! Only he could get close enough to Potter to act.

Draco rushed out of his bedroom as Narcissa returned home with a 'pop,' eager to carry out the first stage of his plan as soon as possible. Fresh tear tracks shone on his mother's pale cheeks, but when she looked up the staircase and spoke, her voice contained the hint of a smile,

"It's alright, Draco. Severus has agreed to protect you."

****

Having gained Severus' word that he would do all in his power to assist her son, Narcissa appeared much more at ease, though a ghost of fear flitted across her features whenever she glanced at the portrait of Lucius. There had been no word from Azkaban since his arrest and Draco knew she was suffering greatly from the loss of her husband's reassuring presence, so he kept the intricacies of his plan to himself.

The suggestion of a shopping trip to Diagon Alley was as much an opportunity to put his idea into motion, as it was to distract Narcissa from the hollow emptiness of the manor, so on an unusually crisp August morning they arrived in the somewhat subdued Leaky Cauldron.

Narcissa tapped the familiar pattern on the worn brick wall and Draco recalled with a smile the same excitement he had felt on their visit to the alley before his first year. It was a shock therefore, though not entirely unexpected, to find how greatly Diagon Alley had changed since then. He tried to ignore the boarded up shops and posters of leering Death Eaters as they made their way to Madam Malkin's, and instead listened intently to Narcissa's recitation of the shopping list.

Admiring his new dress robes, it was only when the door chimed, announcing the arrival of new customers, that Draco was sharply reminded of his task. The familiar faces of Potter, Weasley and Granger appeared from behind a rail of cloaks and he immediately adopted his customary sneer, insulting each of them as much as he could. With all the haughty disdain and arrogance of their family, Narcissa and Draco swept out of the shop and into the near-deserted alley.

In the Apothecary he was finally able to separate from his mother under the pretext of browsing Quality Quidditch Supplies, but he was unable to avoid the way her eyes followed him anxiously out of the shop.

Draco hurried past the stalls selling protective amulets, nearly knocking a particularly shabby wizard over in his haste, but he almost stopped dead in front of a shockingly bright window display. A cacophony of noise spilled from the door every time a customer clasping a bulging shopping bag left and Draco knew that if it wasn't for the desperate situation he found himself in now, he would have loved to visit the shop himself, even if it was owned by the Weasleys.

Unable to resist, Draco glanced briefly back over his shoulder as he continued walking and had to suppress a sigh of regret that he could not join his carefree classmates. Instead, he slipped into a darker alleyway and sped up, checking carefully that no one was watching from the shadowy doorways.

Borgin looked up in alarm when his shop door creaked open, his eyes widening further as Draco strode confidently towards him.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy. You haven't visited here since......"

Draco quelled the shopkeeper's obsequious rambling with a look and drummed his pale fingers on the counter.

"I wish to make a purchase, Borgin. That necklace, in fact."

He indicated a delicate opal necklace displayed on a dusty cushion and waited for Borgin to wrap it carefully in protective material and remove it from the glass case.

"An exquisite taste, like your father. Have you heard from him recently?"

"Of course I haven't," Draco snapped. "How much are you asking for?"

"With such an intricate design as this, I can't ask less than one thousand five hundred galleons."

Draco raised an eyebrow and replied,

"I thought times were hard, Borgin. Surely you'd be grateful for any gold at all. Nine hundred galleons and not a knut more."

The shopkeeper spluttered and protested, but it was clear that Draco wasn't going to back down so, resignedly, Borgin accepted the gold and hid it under his cloak.

"Will you want the case or just the protective cloth?"

"I can't take it with me, you stupid little man," Draco retorted. "How could I possibly get it into Hogwarts without arousing suspicion? There will be an impossible number of security measures around the castle so I will send you an owl after term starts with an address."

Borgin hesitated before answering, clearly unwilling to send a Dark object right into the midst of aurors protecting the school.

"I'm not sure if..."

" Tell anyone and there will be retribution," interrupted Draco and, summoning all the dominance of his father, threatened, "You know Fenrir Greyback? He's an old family friend and will be checking up on you from time to time."

Wringing his hands, Borgin paled at the thought of the notorious werewolf.

"There's really no need...."

"I'll decide that, Borgin. Not a word to anyone, including my mother, understand?"

The shopkeeper nodded and bowed deeply as Draco turned on his heel and strode out of the shop.

As he left the murky shadows of Knockturn Alley and went in search of Narcissa, Draco allowed a proud smirk to pull at the corners of his mouth. It had been much easier then he had expected to dominate Borgin and the smoothness of the transaction had given him far greater confidence in his plan. He brushed off his earlier feelings of despair, the constant weight of Voldemort's task lessening slightly.

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	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Narcissa straightened his collar and brushed invisible specks of dust from the shoulders of his cloak before they left the manor for Platform 9 and ¾. Draco knew from experience that her fastidious grooming of his uniform was her way of drawing out their time together, putting off his eventual departure for as long as possible. It had been the same every year, but never before had her eye swum with tears as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He grasped her hand tightly as she stroked his cheek and she spoke softly, her voice wavering,

"Be careful, Draco, promise me you'll be careful. With Lucius in Azkaban, I couldn't stand it if you..."

Her shoulders heaved and she was unable to voice her worst fears. Draco allowed her to enfold him in an embrace and, remembering his successful visit to Borgin and Burke's, spoke with confidence,

"I'll be fine, mother. The Dark Lord entrusted this task to me because I'm the only one capable of doing it, surely that means he knows I can succeed."

Narcissa sobbed again, but more quietly, and dried her eyes carefully. She took his hand in hers and turned quickly on the spot, apparating to the platform.

The usual barrage of noise and the jostling of other students greeted them as soon as they appeared beside the Hogwarts Express. Narcissa remained impassive, her typical expression of cool indifference firmly in place with only as slight reddening around her eyes indicating the emotion she had shown at the manor. Draco lifted his trunk onto the train, speaking formally,

"I'll see you at Christmas, mother."

She nodded and extended her hand to him. He squeezed her fingers briefly, trying to convey silently that she had nothing to fear. The whistle blew and he closed the door,

going in search of the other Slytherins.

Pansy waved enthusiastically from a compartment and flung her arms around his neck as he entered. Grimacing slightly, Draco turned his face away from hers and nodded greetings at Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini. As the train started moving, he managed to extricate himself from her grip and moved to a seat near the window.

Crabbe pulled out a comic and the compartment descended into silence until Zabini sneered,

"Not joining the other prefects, Malfoy? With your family having sunk so low, I'd have thought you would relish any authority you could get, even if it is only school prefect."

"Don't you dare insult my family!"

Raising and eyebrow sardonically, Zabini taunted,

"I don't need to insult you, everyone knows how your father not only failed the Dark Lord, but ended up in Azkaban as well."

Draco opened his mouth with the intention of making a sneering comment about Zabini's mother when the compartment door slid open. A trembling first year held out a scroll of parchment to Zabini, who snatched it and pulled the door shut.

"Slughorn wants to see me for lunch. I didn't realise he'd come out of retirement."

"Probably wants to arrange remedial Potions for you already," Draco snapped, before slouching back in his seat.

Pansy gestured for him to rest his head in her lap and he lay down glowering, furious at Zabini's dismissive attitude towards him. He was desperate to win back the Malfoy pride which had cemented them as one of the leading pure-blood families for years until the events at the Ministry.

Remembering blood-red eyes locked on his, Draco bit the inside of his cheek, preventing himself from spilling the details of his task.

The journey past with dull monotony and Zabini only returned as the compartment lights flickered on. He appeared to be having trouble sliding the door closed and in the ensuing scuffle with Goyle, Draco could have sworn he'd caught sight of a white trainer swinging onto the luggage rack.

Deciding he must have imagined it, Draco asked,

"So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," he answered. "Not that he managed to find many."

Draco wasn't able to miss Zabini's mocking expression, but refused to react and instead insulted all of Slughorn's other guests. The conversation turned to the subject of the Weasley girl, which Draco ignored as he spoke in a superior tone,

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. He probably hasn't heard I'm on the train, or – "

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," Zabini cut in. "I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

At these words Draco could no longer contain himself and laughed without humour, saying carelessly,

"Who cares what he's interested in? I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, so what does his opinion matter to me?"

"What do you mean, Draco," Pansy asked, looking down at him with surprise.

Allowing some of his former swagger and superiority to return, Draco replied,

"Well, you never know. I might have – er – moved on to bigger and better things."

His words had the desired effect and he observed Crabbe and Goyle's gawping and Zabini's questioning expression with satisfaction.

Dumbfounded, Pansy whispered,

"Do you mean – _Him_?"

Enjoying being the central focus of the Slytherins again, Draco shrugged.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but the Dark Lord won't care how many NEWTs I've got. It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

Zabini snorted and commented derisively,

"And you think _you'll _be able to do something for him?"

Despite Zabini's words, Draco knew that he had gained a little more respect from the other Slytherin and even more would follow once he was successful. Soaking in Crabbe and Goyle's gormless expressions of wonder and Pansy's adoring gaze, he stretched and suggested they changed into their robes.

As Goyle swung his trunk down from the luggage rack, Draco looked up sharply and frowned. Surely it was too much of a coincidence to see a flash of trainer and then hear a gasp of pain from the same place? Certain that someone, most likely Potter, was concealed there, Draco hung back as the others left and pulled the compartment blind down.

Draco turned away from the luggage rack and pretended to fiddle with something in his pocket until he grasped his wand and spun round, shouting,

"Petrificus totalus!"

The invisible figure fell from the rack with a satisfying thump, a cloak sliding off to reveal their identity. Draco laughed triumphantly and tucked his wand away.

"Potter, I might have guessed. You can never keep your nose out of other people's business, can you? Well, you didn't overhear anything I care about."

In his frozen state Potter could only blink helplessly and Draco stared down at him contemplatively, considering what to do now he, quite inexplicably, had the Gryffindor at his mercy. There was no time now to question him, not with the train about to depart, and he shied away from deliberately injuring the helpless boy. It would certainly not help his task if Potter was to arrive at school, maimed and pointing the finger at Draco.

The train whistled so, making his mind up quickly, he cast a silencing charm on Potter and released him from the full body-bind. It was sorely tempting to stamp on Potter's face there and then, but the train began to rattle along the tracks back to London, so he dashed out of the compartment and leapt onto the platform.

Draco looked over his shoulder and smirked as Potter, not being skilled in non-verbal spells, brandished his wand to no effect. Congratulating himself on the casting of the silencing charm, Draco joined a gaggle of Ravenclaws at the school gates.

The process of checking each student for Dark objects was achingly slow and the knot of Hogsmeade villagers, no doubt gathered to gossip as the students arrived, gradually dispersed. Only Madam Rosmerta remained behind, discussing the oak-matured mead she had just ordered with Filch. It was all too easy for Draco to draw his wand and, when the caretaker was diverted, cast the Imperius curse on Rosmerta. A curious tingling feeling along his arm was the only indication that the curse had worked as quietly ordered Rosmerta to go about her business as usual.

Overcome with his success, Draco allowed Filch to search his belongings without complaint, before clambering into one of the horseless carriages. The first stage of his plan had been carried out without a hitch. All that remained for him to do now was to send an owl to Borgin and Burke's in time for the first Hogsmeade visit.

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	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

With breakfast came the usual flurry of owls, each one dropping a parcel or letter into the laps of the bleary-eyed students. Draco's eagle owl swooped towards the Slytherin table and deposited a scroll of parchment addressed to him in his mother's hand, perching on the toast rack as if waiting for an instant reply.

"Mummy checking up on you already, Malfoy?"

Draco ignored Zabini's mocking comment and scanned the letter quickly. All was well at the manor, Narcissa had nothing unusual to report, but she implored him to write at least three times a week. Scribbling a hasty reply, he attached the parchment to the waiting owl's leg and turned back to his porridge,

The other students traipsed out of the the Great Hall to their first lessons, but the sixth years remained behind as the Heads of Houses moved along the tables with their timetables. Snape placed a blank one in front of Draco and tapped it with his wand, saying,

"Congratulations on your 'Outstanding' Potions OWL, though I would have expected no less."

Draco swelled with pride at the compliment and decided that there was no harm in sucking up to Snape, as he had been doing since his first year. After all, being on Snape's good side could only help him with his task.

"Well, it's thanks to your teaching that I got such a high grade, sir. You must be pleased to finally be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, but I will miss your lessons."

Snape's thin lips curved upwards in a satisfied smirk, evidently enjoying Draco's praise. Before moving on to the other students, he added,

"You will still be in my class, Draco. I will be teaching you this afternoon."

Looking down at his timetable Draco saw that this was, indeed, the case, though learning how to _defend_ himself from the Dark Arts seemed quite ludicrous. He shoved the parchment into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, making his way to the doors with the other Slytherins.

"A word, Draco. Move along, Miss Parkinson."

Pansy reluctantly dropped the hand she had been extending hopefully to Draco and started walking in the direction of the Charms classroom. For a moment Draco searched his memory of the morning for something which would warrant a reprimand, but realised that there was only one thing Snape would want to discuss in private.

"Have you started work on your task yet? You know that it is vital to begin as soon as possible."

Draco rolled his eyes as he answered and edged nearer the door.

"Of course I have. Everything has gone according to plan."

He made to continue out of the Great Hall, but found Snape blocking his path.

"You must understand that the Dark Lord wishes you to use cunning as opposed to magic, otherwise he would carry it out himself."

Refusing to make eye contact so as to prevent Snape from employing his customary questioning technique of Legilimency, Draco replied,

"I just said that I've got everything under control. Now, if you'll excuse me, Professor, I have a lesson to get to and I'm sure you wouldn't want me to be late."

With obvious reluctance, Snape let him pass and Draco followed a few dawdling students up the stairs. He should have known that Snape would try and interfere, but whatever he said about the Dark Lord's wishes was irrelevant when Draco had already put his brilliant plan into action. Snape obviously feared that he was losing his high status among the Death Eaters and was doing all he could to hang onto it.

Well, Draco thought with a smile, we'll soon see who's the favourite after I succeed, and he swaggered into his first lesson with confidence.

****

By the end of the day, Draco's head was beginning to ache and he would have liked nothing more than a long, uninterrupted sleep in the dormitory. Each professor had doled out a vast number of essays and chapters to read, so when he pushed open the door to Snape's new classroom, he had amassed enough work to keep him up all night.

Taking his seat towards the back of the classroom, Draco only half-listened to Snape's lecture on non-verbal spells and his subsequent sneering at Granger's encyclopedic knowledge. At Snape's request for them to divide into pairs, Pansy immediately moved her chair closer to his and, with a sigh, he faced her as they practiced silent incantations.

Draco had hoped that a lesson with the former Potions master would provide some entertainment at the expense of the Gryffindors, but it had been downright dull, until –

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while. "Here, let me show you."

The was a tremendous crash as Snape was knocked off-balance by Potter's Shield Charm and hit a desk. Scowling, the professor righted himself and straightened his robes.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practising _non-verbal_ spells, Potter?"

Draco watched the scene avidly as Potter looking both abashed and defiant, answered stiffly,

"Yes."

"Yes, _sir_."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."

At that remark, Draco gaped in amazement, unsure whether he admired Potter's daring or was astonished at the boy's stupidity. Surely he knew how dangerous it was to provoke Snape? Draco observed Potter more closely and realised that he seemed equally shocked. Snape's jaw clenched and he flexed his fingers as if dying to reach for his wand, before giving Potter a Friday detention.

Draco's laughter at the scene was abruptly cut short when Snape demanded two scrolls of parchment on the use of non-verbal spells in combat. Thinking of the immense workload from the other professors, Draco couldn't prevent himself from protesting,

"But, sir, I've got tons of work already. Couldn't you – "

"No, I could not," Snape snapped.

Forgetting his earlier observation of Potter's foolishness, Draco continued to argue.

"I won't be able to finish it by – "

"Detention, Malfoy! And if you don't complete it for next week's lesson, you will spend every Friday until Christmas cleaning out the Potions dungeon!"

Draco's expression of shock was mirrored on all the other students, especially the Gryffindors who had never seen Snape so much as deduct House points from Slytherin, let alone punish his favourite pupil. All previous thoughts of flattering Snape to help with his task vanished instantly as Draco shoved the open-mouthed Gryffindors aside and stormed from the classroom.

****

As the week progressed, Draco's anger at Snape increased and he spent many evenings pacing about the common room, ranting about the professor to a sympathetic Pansy and a bored Zabini.

After receiving yet another essay from McGonagall, he pushed his was through a chaotic tangle of students on the way to lunch when he was accosted by Snape.

"If you would stop sulking and consider your situation for just a minute," Snape spoke in a low tone, "you would see that I have engineered it to your advantage."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise and Snape nodded grimly.

"Of course, you have been far too busy complaining about how unfair your life is when I have actually done you a favour. Dumbledore has requested that Potter's detention is moved to next week, which can only mean that he has some business with the boy. I am moving your detention to the same time as Potter's, so you can deal him, uninterrupted. Next Friday, 8 o'clock in the trophy Room."

Without waiting for a response, Snape swept down the corridor towards the dungeons, students pressing themselves against the walls to avoid crossing his path.

****

Though Draco tried to keep a watch on Dumbledore's office, he was unable to linger there long enough to see Potter speak the password and enter. Filch soon found him lurking there and demanded to know his purpose for loitering, to which Draco had no adequate answer. He also hadn't considered what he would actually say to Potter when he caught him leaving the Headmaster's office, but he still had a week to think of something.

However, by half past seven on the following Friday, he still had no idea how to question the boy without the use of magic. As he pushed open the door to the Trophy Room, he decided to ignore Snape's warning and cast a curse. Drawing his wand, Draco opened his mouth to utter an Unforgivable when Potter looked up from a tarnished cup, asking in surprise,

"Snape moved your detention too?"

Knowing how strong Potter's Shield Charm was, Draco hastily stowed his wand away, nodding curtly as he muttered,

"Slimy git."

A thousand other unfavourable descriptions instantly sprung to mind when he thought of the professor, but Potter's sudden laughter broke into his thoughts.

"I never thought I'd see the day when _you _would insult Snape!"

Draco glared at the other boy and dragged the House Cup across the table, beginning to polish it as he grumbled,

"You deserved your detention, but _I _had done nothing wrong. Two rolls of parchment!"

He expected Potter to make a scathing remark of some sort, but instead he spoke with apparent sympathy,

"Yeah, I know. It took me hours to finish and I had to keep making my handwriting bigger to fill up the space."

Taken aback by Potter's seemingly amicable response, Draco bent his head over the silver cup and scrubbed it clean whilst considering the best way to go about gaining information. For at least half an hour only the sound of their cloths squeaking against the polished cups resonated in the Trophy Room, until Potter broke the silence, speaking more to himself than to Draco,

"When my Dad had detention he used a pair of mirrors to speak to his friends."

Jumping at the sound of Potter's voice, Draco looked up sharply and saw that the other boy was staring at his own reflection in the Quidditch cup. The name 'James Potter' gleamed brightly and Draco fund himself adding,

"My father used enchanted parchment when he needed to."

It was only after the words had left his mouth that Draco realised how out of character is was for him, sworn enemy of the Gryffindor, to converse civilly without adding a snide comment about the boy's family.

Potter, too, seemed equally taken aback by the conversation tone with with which Draco had addressed him and for a moment they stared at each other, utterly perplexed. The sudden tension in the room seemed almost tangible as they both appeared to be thinking of drawing their wands and duelling there and then.

Inexplicably grinning, Potter once again broke the silence,

"Didn't take your father for a rulebreaker, Malfoy."

Draco exhaled the breath he only just realised he'd been holding and retorted,

"Of course he wasn't one; he was a school prefect."

Potter's smile stretch even wider and he laughed,

"Yeah? Well, mine was Head Boy!"

No adequate response instantly sprung to mind, so Draco resorted to scowling at the other boy, before noticing the time and standing up. They reached for the door handle simultaneously and, after a brief awkwardness, Potter pulled it open and allowed him to pass through.

They parted without a word, though once again shared another puzzled look, and set off to their separate dormitories. It was only when he'd returned to the Slytherin common room and seen the notice about Hogsmeade visits that Draco realised he hadn't even attempted to use the joint detention to his advantage.

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	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Snape had been shooting him meaningful glances and muttering advice under his breath whenever he had the chance, but Draco continued to ignore him and focused instead on the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. Last week he'd sent an owl to Borgin and Burke's with the address of The Three Broomsticks and another to Madam Rosmerta, giving her instructions.

As far as he knew, the landlady was still under his Imperius Curse, though it didn't really matter, seeing as he could always cast it again when he visited the pub with the other students. Then, it was only a question of –

"Mr Malfoy, will you please pay attention to the task at hand and not stare out of the window. I will see you after the lesson."

Professor McGonagall's stern voice had broken into his daydreaming and Draco reluctantly forced his attention back to the class. He'd barely finished scribbling down the complicated explanation of human transfiguration when the bell rang and they were dismissed. Draco knew from experience that it was pointless to try and slip past McGonagall unnoticed, so he made his was to her desk slowly and waited for her to decide his punishment.

When the last of the students had left the classroom and the door had been pulled shut with a click, McGonagall fixed him with her typical uncompromising stare.

"You are not an unintelligent pupil, nor are you any lazier than your contemporaries, and yet you have failed to hand in three consecutive homeworks."

Draco stared at the ground, shuffling his feet and feeling for all the world like a first year again.

She continued,

"Clearly, taking house points is having no effect, so you will serve detention with me this Saturday."

He stared up at her with horror, protesting,

"But, Professor, I've been.........I've been busy......."

Unimpressed, she raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.

"You are a sixth year now, Malfoy, and in order to pass your NEWTs, you must keep to the deadlines you are set. Professor Flitwick tells me you are behind with your Charms work as well, so I suggest that you get your priorities straight and put schoolwork first."

You have no idea what I have to deal with, no idea that I have something far more important than _schoolwork_ to do, Draco thought furiously and he tried pleading with her,

"Professor, it's Hogsmeade this weekend. I'll do two extra detentions next week instead, if you'll just let me go."

McGonagall's nostrils flared as she replied, her lips white with anger,

"I am well aware of the trip, but you are in no position to negotiate your punishment. You should have thought more carefully about the consequences for neglecting homework."

Draco stormed from the room, terrifying the second years lined up outside as he cursed McGonagall and all of Gryffindor without bothering to keep his voice down. Before long he was standing in from of the concealed entrance to the Slytherin dungeon and was calm enough to re-evaluate his situation.

On reflection, it wasn't disastrous and his plan could work just as well without he himself being there to oversee it. Rosmerta would lurk in the girls' toilet and pass the necklace to Granger, who in turn would hand it to Potter. Draco intended to manipulate the boy's curiosity because, knowing Potter, he would _have _to touch it and, under the curse of the necklace it would be easy to interrogate him. McGonagall's detention meant that the questioning would have to take place in the school hospital wing, as opposed to Hogsmeade, but the results ought to be the same, if not better.

Relieved that all was not lost, Draco spoke the password and entered. He settled in an armchair near the fire and began to make a start on the homework he had kept putting off.

****

Saturday came with the first flurry of snow, far earlier in the year than usual, which dusted the grounds of Hogwarts and blew through the open doorway in a gust of icy wind. A snaking column of students, all muffled in hats and scarves, slowly inched forwards as Filch checked their names against a list and searched them for Dark objects.

Standing on the staircase, Draco was scanning the faces of the crowd when Pansy hugged him tightly and promised to bring back a large quantity of Honeyduke's sweets. He patted her absentmindedly on the back, before he noticed with satisfaction that Potter and his two sidekicks were on their way out of the school. Leaving the crush of the entrance hall behind, Draco made his way to the Transfiguration classroom for his detention.

McGonagall indicated a seat right in front of her desk and he began work on an essay. The time passed excruciatingly slowly and his mind kept drifting to the events in Hogsmeade. Catching McGonagall's eye, he bend his head over the parchment and reread his last sentence.

_The incantation for human transfiguration requires a great deal of concentration....._

…..he'd been concentrating so hard on his plan over the past few weeks that it was no wonder he hadn't been able to write her stupid essays......

_.....and the individual must focus on each detail......_

…..they would be sitting in The Three Broomsticks now, drinking butterbeer, when Granger would need to use the toilet......

_.....before they cast the spell......_

…..Rosmerta would be confunding the girl and giving her the necklace, wrapped in a cloth......

_.....with great care, as the effects can be irreversible......_

…..Potter would be asking to see it, removing the wrapping and –

A piercing scream wrenched him from the crystal-clear enactment of his plan and he knocked a bottle of ink to the floor in his haste to discover the cause of the noise. McGonagall, too, had risen immediately from her seat and together they hurried down to the entrance hall. Students and teachers alike were rushing to the scene of the commotion and, dashing in front of some Hufflepuffs, Draco had a clear view from the top of the stairs.

A Gryffindor girl was sobbing hysterically beside Hagrid who seemed to be cradling a doll.....no, another girl who lay limp in his arms. McGonagall almost ran towards the gamekeeper and even from his vantage point, Draco could see her face visibly pale.

The crowd rippled with whispers and it wasn't long before Draco heard the word 'cursed.' He felt his legs tremble as Hagrid carried the lifeless girl to the hospital wing and he caught a glimpse of Potter, unharmed, but clearly very worried.

As the teachers began to herd the students back to their lessons, Draco took his chance and instead of returning to the Transfiguration classroom, headed to the common room. He had hoped to be able to slip up to his dormitory unnoticed, but the other Slytherins, returning from Hogsmeade, were close behind him. Pansy grabbed his arm and shoved a bag of sweets under his nose, crowing with glee,

"Did you hear about Katie Bell getting cursed? Gryffindor have lost their best chaser, so there's no way they can win the next match!"

Sickened, Draco accepted the sweets and pushed past her to his dormitory door over on the other side of the common room. He tossed the bag into the bin and collapsed on his bed.

Katie Bell, a girl to whom he'd never spoken to directly, but had often played against, was so severely cursed she may never recover and it was entirely his fault.

If everything had gone as planned, he should now be taking advantage of Potter's weakened state and demanding to know Dumbledore's secrets, but the thought of harming the other boy as seriously as the Bell girl brought on another wave of nausea.

With startling clarity, Draco realised that Voldemort knew he would use magic, despite being warned not to, and that innocent students would be permanently injured in the process. This was to be the real punishment for the Malfoys: the burden of Draco's terrible guilt as he wreaked havoc on the school and the torture of his whole family when he inevitable failed the task.

**A/N: I've noticed quite a few people adding this fic to their alerts/favourites without reviewing. Please could you leave something, even if it's very short, because it really encourages me to continue writing. Thank you.**


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

There may have been some truth in Granger's accusation four years ago when she had suggested that money, rather than talent, had earned him a place on the Quidditch team, but nothing could match the pure, unbridled joy that he got from flying.

The terrible realisation that Voldemort did not, in fact, intend to for him to succeed still burned painfully in his mind, though with the Gryffindor-Slytherin match fast approaching, he found himself frequently thinking,

If I beat Potter at this, maybe it's possible......maybe I _can_ complete the task.

It was a faint, inconceivable hope, but a hope nonetheless and he clung to it with desperation as the match drew nearer.

****

Draco changed into his Quidditch robes without a glance at his team mates and sat silently on the edge of a bench as the new captain, Urquhart, gave his pre-match pep talk. The other Slytherins clapped and stamped their feet in approval as Urquhart psyched them up with the usual insulting taunts of the Gryffindor teams' blood status. Barely a year ago, Draco, too, would have eagerly participated in the talk of mudbloods and blood-traitors, but now he chose not to encourage the use of force over skill and waited with mounting tension for the match to start.

When they finally emerged from the changing rooms, the weather conditions couldn't have been more ideal; a clear sky with no glaring sunlight and a crisp breeze. The frozen ground crunched underfoot as they strode towards the centre of the pitch to greet the opposing team. Madam Hooch opened the crate, saying sharply,

"Captains, shake hands."

Urquhart appeared to be trying to crush Potter's fingers, but Draco was impressed to see that the Gryffindor captain didn't so much as blink. The whistle sounded and he shot upwards, the chilled air whipping around his face and making him feel more alert than he had for days. He noticed Potter circling around the perimeter of the grounds and rose higher above the other players, scanning the pitch for a telltale glint of gold.

Urquhart streaked towards the goal, but Draco didn't pause to watch him score and continued searching. It came as a complete shock, then, when the red and gold end of the stadium cheered ecstatically and he spun round to see Weasley clutching the quaffle.

Well, it's bound to happen occasionally, but that was probably fluke, he thought to himself, before concentrating again on his hunt for the snitch.

However, half an hour later, with the score at sixty-zero to Gryffindor, he was forced to conclude that Weasley had, indeed, improved dramatically. Slytherin's keeper conceded goal after goal and it seemed that whatever Pansy had said about Gryffindor being a weak team without Bell, Ginny Weasley was more than capable of making up for the chaser's absence.

After yet another spectacular save, Weasley pretended to conduct the crowd with a rousing chorus of _Weasley is our King_. At the sound of his own composition, Draco felt an unpleasant twisting in his stomach and as he continued his close scrutiny of the pitch, he noticed Potter hovering near Weasley, but not singing along. Their eyes met and whether he was imagining it or not, Draco felt sure that Potter was judging him, waiting to see if he would lash out at the Gryffindor team as was his custom at previous matches. He looked away and tried to ignore both the cheering of the other houses and the booing of his own, until, at last, he noticed the tiny golden snitch and dived after it.

A scarlet blur appeared just slightly behind him and he considered just how easy it would be to shout a sneering remark to break Potter's concentration. A second after that realisation, Draco decided that this time he would play by the rules, this time the match would be decided on their individual talent as seekers alone.

Extending his arm, he felt the cold metal of the frantically fluttering ball against his fingertips when Potter drew level with him. Their shoulders bumped together briefly and Draco, losing his focus, fumbled and allowed the other seeker to grasp the snitch, claiming victory. Their hands touched, only a slight brushing of fingers as Potter pulled out of the dive, but Draco felt a peculiar tightening in his chest which was soon replaced by an inexplicable feeling of loss as the Gryffindors crowded around their captain.

He descended slowly, making his way back to the changing rooms with his shoulders hunched and his broomstick trailing along the ground.

****

The atmosphere in the common room that afternoon was fast becoming intolerable and Draco would gladly have disappeared to his dormitory if it weren't for the fact that Zabini could follow him there, continuing to jeer at his performance in the match. Arguments were breaking out among the other Slytherin players, but thankfully, none of them had turned their attention to him yet.

Perhaps Pansy thought her presence would comfort him or maybe she really hadn't heard his repeated request for peace and quiet. Either way, she kept up a constant stream of inane chatter as she wound her arms around Draco's neck, virtually sitting on top of him. She ran her fingers continuously through his hair, but he jerked his head away when he caught a few of her words.

" – I was saying to Daphne that Weasley _must _have been using a Supersensory Charm or something because there's no way he's actually that good a keeper, and she said –"

"He didn't!"

Pansy stared down at him with concern, taking the opportunity to feel his forehead in case he was sickening from something. Draco batted her hand away impatiently and continued,

"He didn't cheat, none of the team did. They won the match fair and square because they're better players."

Quite why he was so vehemently denying that Gryffindor had bent the rules, he wasn't sure himself and taking advantage of Pansy's astonishment, Draco all but threw her off his lap. Hoping desperately that no one else had overheard, Draco straightened his robes and turned to leave when Pansy caught hold of his arm.

"Where are you going, Draco? You need to stay here and rest."

He wrenched himself free and hurried across the common room, adding carelessly over his shoulder,

"I've got to see Professor Snape."

As was often the case after a Quidditch match, the corridors were deserted with the Houses either celebrating a victory or commiserating over a defeat, so Draco was able to rush through the school unhindered. He had no idea where exactly he was heading and simply let his feet guide him whilst he tried to clear his head.

He'd cursed a student, lost the match and now he was defending the honour of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Perhaps he should have listened to Snape and even accepted his help, but he still had enough of the Malfoy pride left to prevent him from actually seeking the professor out.

There was a sudden crash as a door was slammed, followed by the sound of hasty footsteps approaching. Draco found himself praying that it wasn't Snape searching for him when Granger, of all people, almost knocked him over as she hurtled past, her face streaming with tears. Utterly bemused, Draco rounded the corner only to catch sight of Weasley fending off a circle of enchanted birds as he disappeared in the opposite direction, accompanied by that irritating Gryffindor girl with the high pitched giggle.

If he'd come across this scene at any other time, Draco would have found it quite hilarious, but as it was he felt even more uneasy and noticed with a start that he wasn't alone.

Potter was sitting on one of the suits of armour's plinths, cupping his chin in his hands. For a moment, Draco hovered uncertainly, torn between wanting to join the other boy or just leaving him to his thoughts when Potter spoke,

"Are you going to watch me sitting here all day?"

"I wasn't watching you," Draco answered defiantly, but he continued more hesitantly, "I wanted to.....I needed some space away from everyone."

To his surprise, Potter nodded with complete understanding and, if Draco's eyes weren't deceiving him, appeared to shift along in order to make room on the plinth. Draco's indecision didn't last long as he considered that staying here would definitely be preferable to returning to the dungeons or pacing around the school, so he settled himself beside the other boy and stretched his legs out. Potter didn't appear to want to break the silence any time soon and Draco chewed his bottom lip nervously until he could bear it no longer and asked,

"So, what are you doing hanging around here instead of celebrating your victory?"

Sighing dejectedly, Potter frowned and stared at the floor, replying quietly,

"I don't think Ron and Hermione can ever be friends again, not after what Ron's just gone and done."

"It's been glaringly obvious that they like each other since about third year. I don't know why it's taken them so long to realise that."

Draco saw Potter's eyebrows rise in disbelief and answered the implied question,

"Yes, Potter, just because I haven't made a comment about it before, doesn't mean I haven't noticed. You'd have to be blind not to."

Absorbing what was obviously a startling revelation, Potter remained silent for a while before he burst out so suddenly that Draco nearly fell off the plinth,

"But why _her_? Why on earth would he choose Lavender?"

Draco understood the contempt Potter felt for someone like Brown exactly and added,

"I know; it's absurd. She could give Pansy a run for her money in terms of being the most irritating, airheaded girl in the school"

Potter's mouth quirked upwards into a slight smile and that, more than winning a Quidditch match ever could, was enough to dispel all Draco's despair and replace it with a glowing warmth which seemed to emanate from his chest. Feeling a wave of companionship towards the Gryffindor, he remarked,

"Congratulations on winning, though. Your team played very well."

Seeming to clutch onto the topic of Quidditch, Potter began to speak enthusiastically. Draco noticed that as he talked, the other boy stretched out his legs and appeared to relax. He listened with genuine interest as Potter discussed the match in detail, the tension dissipating as he gestured emphatically.

Eventually, perhaps realising that he had been speaking at length with very little contribution from his companion, Potter's voice ground to a halt, but not before he added,

" You're a very good player, Malfoy. It was pretty close at the end."

Surprising himself yet again, Draco replied with modesty,

"I could blame my broomstick, seeing as your _Firebolt_ is much faster, but you caught the snitch because you're a better seeker."

They continued sitting beside one another in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Draco was still trying to get his head around the fact that he was _enjoying_ Harry Potter's company more than his own gang of Slytherins, when he realised how dark it have become outside.

Standing up, he sighed as he said,

"I suppose we should be getting back now."

Potter rose to his feet more slowly, clearly still pondering something. Draco was on the brink of asking what it was exactly when the boy spoke,

"You know, sometimes I wish I could be more like Dumbledore; he seems so untroubled by emotions and relationships. Everything would be so much easier."

At the mention of the Headmaster's name, Draco shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"I'm sure he has his own problems......"

He let the sentence hang between them, unwilling to make it an outright question, but speaking in a tone which clearly requested an answer of some sort. Potter inclined his head noncommittally and Draco swallowed nervously, forcing himself to push on.

"You're.......you're very close to him, aren't you?"

"Yes, I suppose so. He talks to me quite often."

Whether he thought he'd given something away or had merely noticed their lengthening shadows cast onto the stone walls, Potter blinked and didn't continue. In an unspoken agreement, they both started walking in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

The corridors were still devoid of any other students, which was probably a good thing, Draco reasoned. After all, it was unlikely that an outsider would think for a moment that neither of them had drawn a wand the whole they were in each other's company.

"_He_ can't come in here."

The Fat Lady's imperious voice startled them both and, with what could only be perceived as reluctance, Potter turned to Draco before he left.

"Well, goodnight then."

He didn't immediately speak the password and enter. Instead, he quite unexpectedly raised his arm, hesitated, and then touched Draco lightly on the arm. Speechless, Draco could only stare at him and Potter smiled openly.

"Thanks."

The portrait swung open and he disappeared, but Draco stood rooted to the spot, his mind racing. What was Potter thanking him for? They'd only sat together and talked about Quidditch, and yet, perhaps their chance encounter had been as calming for him as it had for Draco.

"You can't stand there all night. Go back to your own common room."

Without a word, Draco obeyed the Fat Lady and made his way back to the Slytherin dungeon. As he walked he could still feel the slight pressure on his arm and smiled unconsciously to himself.

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	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The disastrous results of his cursed necklace plan still shocked and appalled Draco, but as the unmistakeable chill of winter crept across the grounds, he realised that there was still time to think of something else. This, however, was much easier said than done because whenever he caught a glimpse of Harry, all his plans would falter and extinguish.

Once again, his workload was increasing at an alarming rate and though he tried to meet all his deadlines, many an evening was spent simply staring into the hypnotic flames of the common room fire, trying in vain to construct a plan. More often than not, though, Draco found himself reliving the day of the Quidditch match and examining each gesture, each shared smile in minute detail.

It was Harry's impulsive touch before he left that captured Draco's attention the most and he agonised obsessively over whether he should have said something or reached out his own hand to the boy.

****

After a particularly long evening of fruitless plotting which had extended until the cold light of the morning had gradually dawned, Draco wearily gathered his books and headed off to the Potions dungeon. He slid into his usual seat beside Zabini, not even bothering to acknowledge him, and yawned widely as he set up his cauldron.

Eyes itching with tiredness, he barely took in a word of Slughorn's lecture and began throwing ingredients in at random. Twice he nearly set the sleeve of his robe on fire as he trailed the material too close to the flame. Draco stirred his concoction slowly clockwise and stared around at the other students, his mind elsewhere.

Almost immediately, he caught Harry's eye, looked away for a second and chanced another glance across the dungeon. There didn't seem to be any open hostility in the other boy's gaze, only a slight questioning frown in the way his brow was furrowed. Draco tried to focus on his potion, but his concentration had become even worse than before as again and again he looked up to see Harry staring back at him.

A sharp elbow jabbed him suddenly in the ribs and he glared to his left, demanding,

"_What_?"

Zabini pointed wordlessly at the contents of Draco's cauldron which was spitting and bubbling furiously. Draco grabbed his wand to control the temperature of the fire as Zabini asked,

"What were you staring at?"

"I was watching Har....Potter to see if he messes up this time," Draco finished hurriedly, ignoring the Zabini's response.

So, he was 'Harry' now, not merely 'Potter?' Draco struggled to pinpoint when exactly he had stopped calling the Gryffindor by his surname in his head, glowering as the answer came to him. Of course; it was that bloody Quidditch match and all that had followed. Thoroughly annoyed that he had let a few hours alone with the other boy change everything, Draco emptied his cauldron and thrust the contents at Slughorn for marking.

Fortunately, Zabini did not appear to have noticed Draco's careless slip of the tongue and was busy scribbling down the essay title for homework. Granger stormed out of the classroom, followed at a distance by Weasley who managed to appear both defiant and guilty. Clearly, he'd said something thoughtless which had upset her and Draco rolled his eyes at their persistent arguing.

Harry walked past his bench on the way out, looking exasperated and sharing a grimace with Draco. On the spur of the moment, Draco shot his hand out and grasped the other boy's arm tightly, but so briefly he barely had time to register what he had done.

The Gryffindor's jolt of surprise, along with his shy smile, definitely outweighed the risk Draco had taken by acting in such a way in front of the other Slytherins. They left the dungeon only a few steps apart, close enough that it could be seen as walking together, but a sufficient distance apart so as to prevent suspicion.

****

In the common room that evening, Draco was once again deep in thought and neglecting his homework. As he had eaten in the Great Hall that evening, he'd felt his gaze drawn to Harry who was acting as a neutral barrier between the warring Weasley and Granger. Draco had come to the unanticipated, yet inevitable considering how they had been interacting of late, conclusion that he could no longer view Harry as his nemesis of six years. What he was now exactly, Draco was unable to say and was unwilling to delve into his feelings any deeper. However, the fact remained that he was now unable to even contemplate harming Harry.

The very thought caused a twisting, nauseous feeling in Draco's stomach and he stared down at his parchment in despair as Voldemort's task, once again, seemed inconceivable. Absentmindedly, Draco reread the first line of his unfinished essay (_Undetectable poisons were first brewed in order for a drink to be tainted without discovery_) and an idea hit him like a bludger to the head. He felt exactly as he had during the summer when he had first decided to use Borgin and Burke's cursed necklace, only this time the risk of failure was far less and it seemed impossible for him not to suceed.

All the time spent worrying about cursing Harry has been wasted as Draco mentally kicked himself, remembering Voldemort's exact words: _"Subtlety and cunning are necessary until Dumbledore is at your mercy. By the end of the year he must be dead by your hand."_

As long as Dumbledore died, he didn't _have_ to injure Harry.

Not wanting to delay for another minute, Draco hastily wrote a letter to Rosmerta, ordering a bottle of her renowned oak-matured mead.

****

Draco's owl wasn't alone in carrying a heavy package in the morning post as the students began ordering various gifts in time for Christmas, so the wrapped bottle went unremarked. Draco stowed it safely in his trunk and grew increasingly more confident as the day wore on. He would admit, though certainly not to Snape, that his previous plan had been somewhat flawed, but the simplicity of his current idea meant it was guaranteed to succeed.

All he needed to do was deliver the poisoned mead to Dumbledore, who would collapse and die on sampling it, leaving Harry unharmed and Voldemort's task completed.

Draco slipped out of the Slytherin dungeon an hour before curfew and hurried down the chilled stone passageways to the Potions store cupboard. At this hour most of the other students would be heading back to their own common rooms, none of them venturing down to the icy cold dungeons which suited Draco perfectly.

Either Slughorn placed too much trust in the students or he had simply become absentminded in his old age, but whatever the reason, he wasn't nearly as rigorous with security measures as Snape had been and the cupboard was easy to prise open. The countless rows of bottles gleamed eerily in Draco's wandlight and it didn't take a great deal of searching to find a shelf of poisons. Grabbing one at random, Draco withdrew the stopper and poured the entire contents into the mead. He backed out of the cupboard and closed the door firmly, before making his way back to his dormitory without troubling to hide the bottle beneath his cloak.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to your common room now?"

Slughorn's unmistakeably booming voice caught Draco completely unawares and he nearly dropped the bottle in shock.

"I was just on my way, sir"

"Good, good, can't have you wandering the school at night. What were you doing down here anyway?"

"Oh, er.....I was......."

Think, _think_; what possible reason could he have for lurking near the Potions classroom? Draco blurted out the first faintly plausible explanation which sprang to mind,

"I was looking for you, actually, Professor."

"Well, you've just caught me returning from my evening stroll. What is it you want.......ah, I see........"

Bewildered at Slughorn's abrupt change of tone, Draco abandoned his attempts to invent an excuse and stared at the professor. Slughorn was eyeing the bottle greedily, already outstretching his hands to receive it as he said,

"It's really too kind of you, m'boy, and so thoughtful. Madam Rosmerta's mead is said to be quite exceptional."

Draco had no choice but to hand the bottle over, trembling as he did so. Scanning the label with appreciation, Slughorn smacked his lips together when his gleeful expression suddenly fell. He appeared to be suffering from some sort of inner conflict and spoke his thoughts aloud,

"It's such a shame, but I really haven't the time to buy Albus anything better and this will make a perfect gift......"

He looked up and addressed Draco directly,

"I do hope you don't mind, but I'm going to have to give this to Professor Dumbledore as a Christmas present. It's too late to find an alternative and I know how fond he is of mead."

Stunned at the bizarre turn of events, Draco barely managed to nod mutely when Slughorn clapped him on the shoulder and took his leave. He stared after the professor's broad back as it disappeared around the corner and could just make out Slughorn's muttering about how Dumbledore would be obliged to share the mead.

Even if he did intend to give it as a gift to the headmaster, Draco knew enough about Slughorn's character to realise that he was just likely to keep it for himself. That would mean another innocent victim on his hands, another plan ruined.

What on _earth _was he going to do now?

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	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight **

His hands were numb with cold, his feet frozen blocks of ice, despite the thick woollen socks he had pulled on earlier that day, and he huddled further into a corner of the courtyard to avoid the full force of the icy wind. It was quite absurd to be spending his morning break catching hypothermia when his common room was bathed in the warm glow of a crackling fire, but he was dangerously close to throttling Pansy if he stayed near her for much longer.

Hardly any other students had dared brave the freezing temperature for a breath of fresh air, though as Draco stamped his feet to keep his circulation going, he noticed Harry and Granger also being foolish enough to expose themselves to the elements. Clasping what appeared to be a jam jar of flickering blue flames between them, Granger seemed to be talking at length whilst Harry looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else but there.

Draco's eyes watered as the wind grew even stronger, whistling around the solid stone walls of Hogwarts and it was only when he'd stiffly wiped away the moisture with a gloved hand, that he realised Harry and Granger were heading back inside. After a further discussion on the front steps, Harry took the jar from her as she disappeared inside and paused uncertainly, before approaching Draco.

He held out the jar and Draco accepted it eagerly, the heat causing a prickling sensation as it seeped through his gloves. Harry pressed his own hands against the miraculously heated glass, their fingers overlapping slightly and the peculiar blue flames dancing between them. The weather worsened and forced them to retreat further into the corner as the wind picked up an even greater strength.

"Not going to join her inside, then?" Draco asked with his teeth chattering and it seemed for a moment that Harry hadn't heard him speak.

However, it soon became apparent that he was considering his reply and he sighed, answering,

"She'd only continue ranting about Ron and even if I did manage to avoid that, I would be bombarded with questions about Slughorn's Christmas party."

He stared out at the deserted, windswept courtyard before he looked back at Draco, realising that he too must have an equally valid reason for forgoing the shelter of the castle.

"So, why are you standing around out here?"

Draco shrugged, though with great difficulty as he had his shoulders hunched against the cold and replied,

"Similar reason to you; I'm trying to avoid Pansy because she will not get it into her head that I _can't_ take her to the party if I'm not invited!"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You're not invited?"

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed; I'm hardly one of Slughorn's favourites."

His tone wasn't in the least bit unpleasant, but Harry still looked a little embarrassed.

"I wish I didn't have to go, especially seeing as I've got to bring a guest."

"You're not taking Granger?" Draco asked quickly.

"She says she's already found someone, but I don't know who it is yet."

Harry eyed Draco silently and appeared to be on the point of asking him when he opened his mouth and said,

"I could always take Luna. She'd be quite happy to go as friends and not cling onto me like the other girls."

He seemed to be cheered by the thought, but Draco felt utterly perplexed. Surely he wasn't _jealous_ of Loony Lovegood? It wasn't as if Harry could actually take _him_ to the party, so his feelings were completely irrational.

The bell rang inside the castle, the sound reverberating quite clearly through the stone walls and simultaneously, they both looked down at the jar. Unconsciously, they had laced their fingers together, twining them so tightly it was a wonder they hadn't noticed it. At this realisation, both Harry and Draco withdrew their hands from the jar and it smashed into pieces as it hit the ground. The blue flames disappeared instantly and they stared down at the fragments for a moment, before they doubled up with laughter, leaning against each other for support.

With a flick of his wand, Draco repaired it and gave it back to Harry who stored it under his cloak. Leaving the chilled courtyard behind them, they re-entered the school and set off to their own lessons, still giggling.

****

Harry's mention of the party weighed heavily on Draco's mind over the next few days, but he would have been hard pressed to ignore it as the whole school seemed to be buzzing with gossip about the event. The majority of it passed over Draco's head, but it was the talk of Slughorn allowing the students to drink Firewhiskey that held his attention and he broke into a nervous sweat, his anxiety growing, at the thought.

Ridiculous though that particular rumour might be, it hardly needed a great stretch of imagination to assume that alcohol would be offered to the adult guests and oak-matured mead could possibly be poured out. With this alarming thought in mind, Draco listened to every piece of idle gossip concerning the party with an intensity that greatly surprised the other Slytherins.

He first heard a mention of plans to sneak into the party from the centre of rumours and controversial whispers herself: Pansy Parkinson. Many of the sixth year Slytherins were seated in armchairs near the common room fire and Draco had once again found himself pinned to his seat as she sat on his lap and held court.

There had been resentful mutterings about having 'a right as Slytherins to attend a party held by a professor of their own house' and other such nonsense all evening, but Draco had largely let most of the talk wash over him without contributing, until he heard,

"Who says we have to have an invitation? It can't be that hard to find a way in, can it?"

The other Slytherins were nodding their heads in agreement when Draco sat up so suddenly that Pansy was nearly thrown out of the chair.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"There's no need to get so agitated, Draco," Pansy cooed. "I was only saying that it would be easy to gatecrash the party, especially when Slughorn's had a few drinks."

She tried pushing him back into the armchair, but he was already on his feet, mumbling about finishing some homework when he went in search of Crabbe and Goyle.

****

Enlisting the help of his former, for want of a better word, friends had proved futile as they had both managed to receive a detention from Snape for that very evening. They must have done something particularly serious to warrant a punishment from their own Head of House, but when Draco had asked them to join him, they hadn't seemed as willing to follow his lead as they used to, so he didn't try to find out.

Leaving the common room much later that evening, Draco had to admit that Crabbe and Goyle would have been useful allies to have for the plan he had in mind because they could easily create enough of a commotion to divert attention elsewhere. As it was, he would have to carry it out alone and somehow either break into Slughorn's quarters or gatecrash the party itself. He was pinning all his hopes on Slughorn's tendency to indulge himself in fine food and drink, meaning he would possibly be far more lax with security and thus make it easier for Draco to search for the bottle.

As it was long past the curfew, many of the torches on the walls were dimmed to a soft red glow and Draco kept to the shadows as he hurried along the corridors. He caught a glimpse from the windows of yet more snow smothering the grounds in a pure white blanket as it fell silently from the star strewn sky. If it were any other time and he didn't hold the lives of Merlin knows how many in his seemingly incompetent hands, Draco would have gladly stood and watched the sight which still captivated him even at his age. Instead, he rushed on to the sound of voices and laughter which increased in volume as he drew closer to Slughorn's office.

A sliver of light shone from a chink in the panelled wood door, casting a narrow beam on the darkened floor of the corridor and Draco paused as he gathered his thoughts. Out of nowhere, a gnarled hand pinched his shoulder tightly and stale breath washed over him as Filch spoke triumphantly,

"Lurking where we aren't supposed to, are we?"

"I was invited, you fool," Draco protested.

"We'll soon see what Professor Slughorn has to say about that."

Draco struggled to escape the caretaker's clutches, but the door had already been flung open and he was thrust right into the middle of the party. Flich dragged him towards Slughorn by his ear and wheezed with obvious excitement,

"Professor Slughorn, I discovered this boy lurking outside in the corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party. Did you issue him an invitation?"

Draco finally managed to free himself and noticed with dismay that Harry was standing nearby. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at being caught like this and spoke angrily,

"All right, I wasn't invited! I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

"No, I'm not!" said Filch, though he appeared to be positively gleeful. "You're in trouble, you are. Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

Draco could feel Harry's gaze resting on him and wished desperately that the ground would swallow him up. How idiotic he must look now, how stupid and childish he must appear in Harry's eyes.

Slughorn waved his hand airily, saying,

"That's all right, Argus. It's Christmas and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

At these words, Draco hastily thanked the professor, but was unable to raise a smile or look even remotely pleased. All he wanted was to disappear and hide from everyone who had witnessed his capture, not to mention the fact that he would now be unable to leave and search Slughorn's quarters. None of the guests seemed to have dropped dead after drinking the mead, so it was safe to assume that Slughorn was keeping it elsewhere.

Harry was still watching him, but he didn't look amused at Draco's sudden appearance. Instead, he seemed........concerned? Before Draco had a chance to work out what Harry's expression meant, Snape had swooped forward and said,

"I'd like a word with you, Draco."

Again, Slughorn's good spirits, increased by the alcohol he had been drinking, showed themselves and he intervened.

"Oh, now, Severus. It's Christmas, don't be too hard –"

Draco knew all too well that Snape was not one to put aside business in favour of celebration, especially Christmas, and sure enough he spoke curtly,

"I'm his Head of House and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be. Come with me, Draco."

He had no choice, then, but to follow Snape's rippling black cloak away from the festivities, but he risked a glance back at Harry, who was muttering something to Luna.

Snape led him back down the corridor and forcefully shoved him into an empty classroom, closing and locking the door behind him. Draco tried to lean casually against a desk as if Snape's behaviour hadn't fazed him in the least, but when the hollow black eyes fixed inescapably on his own, he was unable to prevent a sick shiver of dread.

Snape's voice, when he began to speak, was dangerously quiet, but Draco caught every word.

"I know you planted that necklace on Kate Bell and you cannot afford to make mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled --"

Lying outright, Draco interrupted,

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish."

"I just told you; _it wasn't me!_ That Bell girl must have some unknown enemy – don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing and it won't work – I can stop you"

He was unable to back down now and admit everything, so he concentrated all his energy on keeping his mind blank. Fortunately, Snape was unable to break into his mind or was unwilling to use the full force necessary because he spoke in a low voice,

"Ah......Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. However, it was foolish in the extreme to wander the corridors without lookouts of back up."

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!"

Draco realised too late that his voice had risen well above a careful whisper and Snape's insistent quieting gestures only served to increase his feelings of recklessness and he shouted,

"It's none of your business what I plan and how I go about it!"

"Confide in me and I can --"

"No! I'm quite capable of managing by myself!"

All Draco's own doubts about his abilities came bubbling to the surface in a hot wave of anger directed at Snape who dared to expose him as the foolish child he felt he was.

"I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but --"

Draco couldn't bear to be reminded of the burden of his task and the heavy price of his failure, so he unlocked the classroom door and strode down the corridor. He hadn't got very far when he slumped against the wall, his legs suddenly weak as his fury evaporated and was replaced by an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Snape's footsteps grew fainter as he made his way back to the party, but from the other direction Draco heard the muttering and shuffling which could only signal Filch's approach.

Panicking, he frantically searched for somewhere to hide, but to no avail and was on the point of drawing his wand and cursing the caretaker when a thin, silken piece of material was flung over his head. He struggled desperately against the cloth, terrified that he was being suffocated by an enchantment of some kind, when a pair of hands turned him round and clamped his mouth shut.

Gazing at the torchlight reflected in Harry's glasses, Draco thought for a moment that he was hallucinating, when Filch came shuffling along the corridor and he realised that he was hidden beneath the infamous Invisibility Cloak.

When the caretaker finally gave up his search for more disobedient students, Harry didn't remove his hand immediately, so Draco reached up and prised it away from his mouth. He kept the hand held tightly in his own and stared uncomprehendingly at Harry, questions flooding his mind.

Being an inch or so taller than the other boy, Draco had to tilt his head down to maintain eye contact, the thick black hair tickling his cheek. Neither of them had a chance to speak as a nearby suit of armour clanked ominously and they instinctively drew closer at the unexpected noise. Harry's breath was ghosting over Draco's cheek and when he shifted, their noses touched slightly. It needed very little effort for Draco to move closer. Harry also seemed to have realised this as their mouths clashed together, both fighting to maintain some semblance of control.

Tongues forcing themselves into the other's mouth and teeth clicking impatiently against each other, the kiss was almost brutally rough. Draco allowed all his frustration at his inadequacy and incompetence to fuel his actions and directed his thoughts at Snape, Voldemort and even Harry himself.

See? _This_ is what I'm capable of and I bet you never believed I had the guts to do it.

Harry showed no sign of wanting to pull away and seemed just as eager as Draco to pour a tumult of mixed emotions into the searing kiss. Shrouded in the Cloak, which neither of them dared remove for fear of being caught, their chests were pressed closely together. Draco found himself rolling his hips, searching for the burning pleasure of friction against his sudden arousal. Harry, too, allowed passion to take control and pushed his own erection against Draco's thigh.

Feeling the heat building, Draco unashamedly thrust himself forward faster and knocked his chin against Harry's head as he roughly demanded another frantic kiss. He came with very little warning and tasted blood in his mouth, though it could just as easily have been Harry's as his own.

He was flooded with emotion at the peak of his orgasm, laughing manically and uncontrollabl as his whole body shook with humourless mirth.

Voldemort had wanted him to form a bond with the boy, to get closer to him.

Well, he couldn't get much closer than he was now, though he doubted the Dark Lord had envisioned this.

It was only when Harry squeezed his hand tightly and brushed the hair out of his face that Draco realised his laughter had abruptly changed to painful, shuddering sobs. In the distance, they could hear the party breaking up and Harry led Draco, the Cloak still covering them, towards the Slytherin dungeon.

The vast range of emotions he was feeling made it difficult to think straight, but as they drew nearer to the concealed entrance, a small part of his mind managed to wonder how Harry knew the way so well. He can't have ever been to this part of the school before.

They pulled the Cloak off and Draco wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his robe and asked, his voice shaking slightly,

"What was......why........"

Harry looked just as confused as he felt and answered awkwardly,

"Well, you were going to get caught again if you'd carried on wandering the corridor."

The stone wall slid open suddenly to reveal a pair of younger Slytherins trying to sneak out, though they hurried back inside at the sight of Draco. Alone again, he looked to his side only to find out that Harry had disappeared, but whether he was hiding beneath the Cloak or had fled, Draco didn't know. He was unable to find out as the noise of Slytherins returning from the party echoed down the corridor.

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	9. Chapter Nine

_**Author's note: ** doesn't allow strikethrough text for some reason, the words written in brackets are meant to be crossed out, but still visible._

**Chapter Nine**

_(Dear) (To)__ Harry,_

_I'm not quite sure why I'm writing this, but I (__want)__ need you to understand that what happened during the party was completely unexpected _

_(but I definitely don't regret it.)__ The thing is, (my __feelings towards you have changed)__ I've changed as a person and_

Draco threw down his quill in disgust and stared at the ink-splattered parchment in front of him. He had been struggling for hours to find a way to adequately express himself, but everything he'd written had sounded either pathetic or arrogant. Scrunching the parchment into a ball, Draco tossed it into the fire, where it crumpled and burned along with all his other half-finished letters.

Ever since his return to the manor for Christmas, the idea of contacting Harry with the intention of addressing the issue of their now dramatically changed relationship had been lodged in his mind and refused to leave. From the polished desk in his bedroom, Draco had an unimpaired view of the expansive grounds and he cupped his chin in his hands, staring out at the acres of open space.

Perhaps their encounter during Slughorn's party had been unremarkable for Harry. After all, Draco reasoned, for the 'Boy Who Lived' and the 'Chosen One' there must be plenty of similar opportunities, so maybe it hadn't struck Harry as unusual or left him feeling so confused.

The thought filled Draco with an unprecedented mixture of dismay and embarrassment, but before he sunk too deeply into apathy, he remembered the shared awkwardness at the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon. If Harry had really been unconcerned about the whole affair, surely he wouldn't have cared enough to guide Draco back to his House, would he?

Cheered by the realisation that Harry, too, could be having difficulty coming to terms with his emotions, Draco stretched and headed down to dinner.

It wasn't as if he could actually send a letter, seeing as it would probably fall into the hands of those muggles Harry lived with or, worse still, the Weasleys.

Lucius was still languishing in Azkaban, which Bellatrix never failed to point out with both mocking derision and contempt whenever she paid one of her frequent visits to her sister. Her own husband, Rodolphus, was conspicuous in his absence, but the Lestranges had never shown a great deal of open affection towards one another, so Draco wouldn't have been surprised to find that they no longer lived as a married couple.

Sharing a meal with Narcissa and Draco one evening, Bellatrix held a lengthy discourse on Voldemort's latest doings, though she was unable to keep her resentment hidden when she mentioned Snape.

"The Dark Lord seems to constantly need to speak with Snape. I had hoped that it was to punish him for some misdeed because I still find his reason for clinging to Dumbledore's side suspicious. I did ask the Dark Lord about it, but he would only say that there is a task which Snape needs to attend to."

On hearing this, Draco choked on a mouthful of soup and Narcissa reached over to pat him on the back with concern. Bellatrix sniffed haughtily and continued in a self-satisfied superior tone,

"Of course, if the task was really that important, He would have asked me to carry it out and not left it in the hands of that greasy, snivelling coward."

Draco pushed his bowl away and could only pick distractedly at the courses which followed. His appetite had been replaced with nausea at his aunt's careless words. He hadn't forgotten Voldemort's task for a moment, but had been trying to fool himself that writing a letter to Harry was part of his plan.

After the meal, he retreated to his bedroom and kicked at the glowing embers in the fireplace. The Daily Prophet hadn't mentioned either Dumbledore or Slughorn's sudden death and considering that the poisoning of a couple of the most highly acclaimed Hogwarts professors would make the front page, Draco could only assume that the mead was still in the Potions Master's quarters.

Christmas Day itself was a miserable affair as Narcissa hadn't ordered the house elves to decorate the manor with the usual boughs of holly and trees bedecked with glittering ornaments. They exchanged gifts in the morning, but neither of them could face eating the traditional lunch of turkey and trimmings, not with Lucius' absence becoming more prominent as the day wore on.

Draco found himself longing for the start of term, even though he had been unable to formulate a plan yet, and soon enough he was standing by the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder. Narcissa would have undoubtedly begged him to put his safety above everything else and even to stay at the manor if Draco had hesitated for too long, so he embraced her quickly. She had always been a lithe, graceful woman, but the constant worry she had been enduring was clearly taking its toll as she felt impossibly fragile beneath his hands. Her hollowed eyes fixed on him as he threw the powder into the fire and almost instantly Snape's office came spinning into view.

"Draco, you must -- "

"I have business to attend to," Draco interrupted with his best impression of his father and, ignoring Snape's orders to face him, swept out of the room.

As expected, the common room was alive with chatter as the Slytherins exchanged gossip and boasted about their Christmas presents. Draco nearly turned around and fled, finding the raucous atmosphere oppressive, when Pansy thrust her hand into his and simpered,

"How was your Christmas, Draco? Did you get my present?"

"Er........no, I didn't. It must have got lost in the post or something."

He had, in fact, received the parcel on Christmas Eve and on opening it, had shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk. Did she really expect him to proudly display the photograph of her batting her eyelashes at the camera beside his bed?

Ignoring her indignation and promise to send another, he made his way to the corner of the common room where a notice had caught his eye.

APPARITION LESSONS

If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before 31st August, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition Instructor.

Please sign below if you would like to participate.

Cost: 12 Galleons

He'd experienced Side-Along-Apparition before, and whilst the sensation had been rather unpleasant, he had to admit that it would be a useful skill to have. With imagined scenarios of vanishing instantly from both Snape and Voldemort's clutches, Draco added his name to the long list of sixth years.

Considering his previous attempt to sneak into Slughorn's quarters had been a complete failure, Draco thought it best to approach the problem from a different angle. Instead of trying to enter without detection, he would somehow have to invite himself in, confund the professor and remove the bottle from his possession.

Draco took to hanging back after Potions lessons, clearing away his cauldron as slowly as possible so as to catch Slughorn on his own. Bizarrely, Harry also seemed to be in need of a private audience with the professor and they would often engage in an unspoken competition of 'who can take the longest to pack away their ingredients.'

By the time the rest of the students had left and the two of them had cleaned their tables, Slughorn would have usually retreated into his office and they would have no choice but to leave the classroom. Occasionally, Harry would be able to catch Slughorn's attention, though not long enough to ask whatever it was he so desperately needed answering, because the professor would usually feign deafness.

Draco was beginning to think it would be impossible to confund Slughorn and remove the mead back from wherever he had hidden it, and was actually considering raiding the store cupboard for a dose of Felix Felicis. Whilst liquid luck would greatly improve his chances of success, not only here, but also with Voldemort's task, he held the memory of the last time he had tried to steal a potion vividly in his mind and was unwilling to risk a repeat performance.

However, thinking back, Draco remembered that Slughorn was fond of an evening stroll, so he set off for the professor's quarters at dusk with the hope of ambushing him when he returned.

He had just rounded the corner when he noticed a figure seated on the ground beside Slughorn's door and stopped dead in his tracks. Draco approached with caution, the dim lighting making it difficult to see very far ahead, when he realised with a start that the figure was, in fact, Harry who had his nose inexplicably buried in a book. Speechless, Draco took a while to collect himself, but Harry seemed too absorbed in his reading material to notice his presence.

"You must be spending too much time with Granger if you're unable to put a book down."

The words were out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them and Harry's head shot up at the sound of his voice. He knocked it against the stone wall behind him and, wincing as he gingerly rubbed his scalp, he replied,

"No, I'm not.......I'm.......You're just as bad as Ron!"

Draco grinned at Harry's indignant outburst, but pretended to be offended.

"You dare tar me with the same brush as Weasley? How insulting!"

"Don't be a prat. I only meant that you both seem to have an issue with me reading a book. I'm not illiterate, you know!"

Laughing, Draco went to sit next to him on the floor and, to his relief, found that Harry had no objections.

"So, what are you reading that's so captivating?"

Harry seemed a little embarrassed at the question and shut the book with a snap so the cover was on display. Draco was surprised to see that it was only a copy of Advanced Potion-Making and, perhaps feeling the need to justify himself, Harry flicked back to a page he'd been browsing. It was almost impossible to discern what the potion in question was, so dense were the scribbling and crossings out which surrounded the printed text.

"I didn't write all this," Harry explained. "One of the pages says, 'This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince,' whoever that is."

"Oh, so it's not your mother's talent finally deciding to show itself in your Potions work. You've been getting outside help!"

Looking rather guilty that the secret behind his sudden talent for Potions had been discovered, Harry's expression soon changed to that of outrage when Draco spoke again.

"This Prince of yours must have been a Slytherin."

"No way! Although, I suppose that's far more likely than Hermione's insistence that he is a girl."

Draco's eyes widened incredulously and Harry nodded.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" He paused, and then asked, "Why are you here anyway?"

"Oh, er.....well.....my Potions grades haven't been that good this year and --"

"Remedial Potions!" Harry crowed and Draco cursed himself for giving such a poor excuse.

He remembered all too well the way he used to jeer at Harry's poor Potion-making skills. However, Harry didn't go on to tease him mercilessly, for which Draco was very grateful and he asked,

"Seeing as you've now got that book as a guide, you can't be here for the same reason. What do you want with Slughorn?"

Harry appeared oddly uncomfortable at the question and replied hesitantly,

"Well, I'm thinking of trying some of the more advanced Potions and need to borrow some ingredients, so --"

He broke off mid-sentence and Draco wasn't able to question him further as Slughorn's vast shadow fell over the pair of them. They had been too busy talking to notice the professor's return and with one look at Harry, Slughorn paled and rushed into his quarters, slamming the door behind him.

No further opportunity had presented itself for Draco to confund Slughorn, so the following week Draco made his way down to the Great Hall for the first Apparition lesson with his mind desperately searching for another way to proceed. He consoled himself with the fact that, thus far, there still hadn't been any cases of mysterious poisoning and skirted around a knot of sixth year Ravenclaws to enter the hall.

The Ministry wizard introduced himself as Wilkie Twycross and explained the details of the course to the gaggle of students. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed that Harry was gesturing for Granger to take a place beside Weasley, but she ignored him and moved further away, which seemed to please the Brown girl immensely.

Telling himself that it would be a benefit to his task were he to position himself nearer to Harry, Draco tried to surreptitiously inch his way across the hall.

McGonagall barked abruptly,

"Malfoy, stand still and pay attention!"

Draco flushed as all the eyes in the hall fixed on him and he paused between two Hufflepuffs, trying to ignore Harry's stare. Twycross continued and asked them to spread out so they all had five feet of space in front. Draco took advantage of the ensuing chaos to position himself on Harry's right. From the other side, Weasley glared murderously at him, but Harry allowed himself a slight smile in Draco's direction, before an old-fashioned wooden hoop appeared at his feet.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" Twycross announced. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!"

He went on to give a step by step set of instructions and Draco glanced around to be sure that everyone else was staring into their hoop as told. Twycross suddenly began to count down and Draco, alarmed that they were being asked to Apparate so soon, tried to focus his thoughts on the hoop.

"—THREE!"

Draco spun on the spot, not really believing that he would be able to do it, and lost his balance. Flinging his arms out in an effort not to fall over, he accidentally caught hold of Harry's hand. They staggered, trying to support one another and fortunately, everyone else, including Weasley, was too busy righting themselves to notice.

Standing straight, but unsuccessfully outside their hoops, they realised as Twycross spoke that their hands were still linked. Draco dropped his arm to his side with a little disappointment, but he had plenty of other chances to grab onto Harry as the lesson progressed. Harry didn't complain once and as the hoops vanished, he subtly brushed his fingers against Draco's, before he was swept away by the crowd of students trying to leave the hall.

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	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

Too many questions would have been asked if Draco purposefully moved to Harry's side during every Apparition lesson, so he wisely, though unwillingly, kept his distance. That's not to say he didn't watch the other boy and was often able to catch Harry's eye from across the hall.

After three weeks he was able to Apparate a few feet towards the hoop, but found it difficult to keep Twycross' Three D's in mind for the rest of the lesson when Harry had surreptitiously given him a thumbs up.

January slid into February with the promise of yet more snow, so Draco spent one of his free periods closeted in the library, searching for the spell to create portable blue flames. He found it, eventually, in a dusty book of obscure charms and inwardly admired Granger's resourcefulness.

Casting the spell later that day, he proudly carried the jar to his lessons, particularly the ones he shared with Harry. The reactions of the trio were priceless when they noticed: Granger stared in amazement, Weasley scowled and Harry grinned, obviously trying not to make a comment. Draco mimed dropping the jar when Weasley and Granger's backs were turned, and was amused to see Harry biting his lip so as to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

As pleasurable as these moments of mutual understanding were, Draco realised with increasing clarity that the bond they had developed with each other had become far too precious to be manipulated for Voldemort's task. Instead, Draco tried to monitor Dumbledore's behaviour and noted the Headmaster's absences with great interest.

Where exactly he disappeared to remained a mystery and when Draco dared ask McGonagall, he was rewarded with a lecture on the Headmaster's right to privacy and a deduction of House points.

As February drew to a close, the coating of snow was transformed into muddy slush which managed to seep unpleasantly through Draco's shoes whenever he crossed the grounds for Herbology. Another Hogsmeade visit was scheduled for the beginning of March, but this time Draco intended to make the most of the freedom it offered and not carry out a plan which would maim another student, as he had in October.

He told himself continuously that any attempt to gather information for his task would not be possible during the trip as it was unlikely that Dumbledore would join the students for the outing and an attempt to break into the Headmaster's office would end in failure.

Lying awake at night, as the other boys in his dormitory slowly fell asleep one by one, Draco entertained a half-formed idea of somehow spending the afternoon in Hogsmeade alone with Harry. The news that the trip would be cancelled and all further ones postponed until further notice came as a crushing blow, especially when Draco realised that it was his own ill-conceived plan with the cursed necklace which had put pay to the students' visit.

****

The first of March dawned grey and miserable, heavy rain clouds obscuring the sun's pale rays and relentless drizzling rain pattering against the castle's windows. Draco made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast in a foul mood and, as had been his custom for the past few months, scanned the Gryffindor table for Harry.

However, neither he nor his faithful sidekick, Weasley, were anywhere to be seen, so Draco assumed that they were taking advantage of the weekend by sleeping late. Stabbing his bacon violently, Draco glared up at the professors' table and Dumbledore's absent chair, cursing them for cancelling the Hogsmeade visit.

The whole day was stretched out in front of him, hours upon hours to be filled with either homework or lurking near Dumbledore's office. He drained his goblet of pumpkin juice and rose from the table, edging around a mass of Gryffindors, all of whom ignored him as he squeezed past.

Unless his ears deceived him, Draco could have sworn he heard Weasley's name mentioned in connection with a love potion. Grinning broadly at the thought, Draco hoped that it was the work of another student who was so exasperated with Weasley and Granger's attitudes that they had tried to engineer a way for them to admit their feelings.

He dwelt on the matter just long enough to imagine Harry's reaction, before turning his attention to the mountainous stack of homework which awaited him in the common room.

****

Around midday, Draco's stomach began to rumble, so, abandoning his Charms essay, he went in search of lunch. Many of the other students must have also felt a few pangs of hunger because quite a crowd was pushing and shoving its way to the Great Hall.

Draco allowed himself to be swept along and was surprised to see two flame-haired adults with troubled expressions being pressed against the wall. He wondered momentarily why Weasley's parents had needed to visit the school, though their presence didn't interest him greatly, when Dumbledore and Snape cut their way through the crowd of students.

The queue to the Great Hall had come to a standstill, so while Draco waited for it to move on, he observed the professors out of idle curiosity. Dumbledore greeted the Weasleys, but not with his customary benign smile, and pointed to Snape. Being only a few feet away, Draco could eavesdrop easily on most of their conversation.

They were speaking in urgent, low-pitched tones, but he caught the words, 'accident' and 'Slughorn,' when the Potions master himself forced his way through the crowd. Unlike the professors, Slughorn didn't attempt to lower his voice, but even if he had, Draco would have been able to tell that something serious had happened by their grave expressions.

"There was something in the mead I offered them, but I had no idea --"

Dumbledore must have realised that the entire student body was listening attentively and forcefully steered Slughorn in the direction of the hospital wing, before he could continue. The crowd parted respectfully to allow the Headmaster to pass, followed by Slughorn, Snape and the Weasleys, who were looking even more distressed.

Draco's mouth went dry, Slughorn's booming voice rang in his ears and he didn't notice the queue moving until someone pushed him forward.

****

The day dragged on and as the sky darkened, Draco let Pansy take his hand and accompany him to the hall for their evening meal. His eyes flicked unconsciously towards the Gryffindor table, but this time he was able to find Harry easily amongst the other students. Their heads bent together, Harry and Granger looked to be discussing something of great importance, whilst further down the table, the Brown girl's eyes were reddened as if she'd been crying recently.

Feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach, Draco searched the rest of the table frantically for any sign of Weasley, terrified that what he had been worrying about all afternoon was true. Harry didn't show any sign of looking over at the Slytherins, so Draco abandoned his meal and rushed out of the Great Hall.

He should have known that his quick exit would not have gone unnoticed by all and, sure enough, Snape must have made some excuse to the other professors because he left his own place and slipped out.

Outside the hall, he grabbed Draco's arm and pinned him against the wall, hissing,

"It was you, wasn't it? _You_ planted the poisoned mead in Slughorn's office. You're lucky that he's too embarrassed to admit where the bottle came from, but because of your rash, foolish actions, a boy nearly died today!"

Draco's hands clenched, his chest tightening and he stammered,

"It wasn't for him......not Slughorn.......Dumbledore......."

This only served to increase Snape's fury further.

"Your arrogant, childish behaviour has made the success of the Dark Lord's task almost impossible and now, Ronald Weasley is lying close to death in the hospital wing!"

He couldn't stand the livid glare, the pincer-like grip on his shoulder any longer and, with bile rising in his throat, Draco wrenched himself away from Snape's grasp. Sprinting down a corridor, he burst into the nearest bathroom, hurtling into an empty cubicle. With the door securely locked, Draco sank down onto the toilet seat, his chest heaving.

Snape's words resounded painfully in his head, the stabbing guilt that had plagued him since Katie Bell had been cursed rose to the surface. His carelessness, his pathetic attempts to complete the task had once again mortally injured another student, only this time it was Harry's best friend.

As selfish as it unquestionably was, Draco felt ten times worse about Weasley's poisoning because of his close connection with Harry.

He imagined the scene in vivid detail, horrific though it was, as Weasley somehow managed to consume a love potion. Harry would have noticed something was wrong, perhaps taken him to Slughorn for an antidote, and there........

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't stop the images flashing through his mind.

Slughorn would have poured out the mead for some reason Draco couldn't fathom and Weasley would have taken a sip.

What if it had been Harry?

Would Weasley have acted as quickly as his friend?

It could have so easily been Harry's murder on his hands and –

"Boys aren't allowed him here, you know."

Draco raised his head to see the pearly white form of Moaning Myrtle floating in front of him. It dawned him that in his haste to flee from Snape, he had inadvertently entered the girls' bathroom, though fortunately, it was the one most students avoided because of the ghost.

Seeing as he hadn't responded and only stared in shock at her, Myrtle spoke again,

"Why have you come here? Have you been bullied, too?"

Draco shook his head, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak. Myrtle eyed him with interest and pointed out with undisguised glee,

"You've been crying!"

Touching his face, Draco found his cheeks damp with tears he hadn't knowingly shed. The ghost glided closer towards him, eagerness transforming her usual glum expression.

"You can confide in me; I won't tell anyone. Have you done something awful?"

Her words carried far more truth than she could possible imagine and Draco stood up, unlocking the cubicle door. As he left he was unable to avoid bushing past her translucent body, the sensation of being plunged into icy water increasing when she tried to stop him. Ignoring her pleas for him to stay in her company, Draco hurried out of the bathroom, the feeling of spine tingling chills persisting long after he had returned to the common room.

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	11. Chapter Eleven

_**Author's Note: **__Draco's birthday is never mentioned in the canon, but most internet sites say he was born on June 5__th__ so I've decided to just go with that._

**Chapter Eleven**

Draco had never anticipated a Quidditch match with less excitement, though admittedly this was only Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, and made his way to the pitch in low spirits. His gloom was not alleviated in the slightest as a broad-shouldered Gryffindor took Weasley's place in front of the goalposts. Harry looked equally distracted as he circled the stadium and was clearly far more concerned about his best friend's absence than winning the match.

The Gryffindor team as a whole were performing terribly, not least because their replacement keeper seemed to be under the impression that _he_ was the captain. Barely half an hour later, the crowd took a collective intake of breath, hardly believing what they were seeing as the keeper grabbed a beater's bat, swung it with all his might only to crack it against Harry's skull with a sickening crunch.

Losing his grip on his broom, Harry lost consciousness and hurtled towards the ground. Draco shoved his fellow Slytherins out of the way as he fought to reach the front row. He hung over the railing, desperate to see what was happening on the pitch, and watched anxiously as a stretcher was conjured to transport Harry to the hospital wing.

On the way back to the castle he found himself at the centre of the sixth-year Slytherins, all of whom seemed to consider Harry's accident highly entertaining. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Draco joined in with the cruel laughter, making a sneering comment about Harry's flying ability which left a sour taste in his mouth.

Someone, probably Pansy, suggested bewitching badges to read 'Support Cormac McLaggen – the best keeper Gryffindor will ever have,' in a bid to lower Weasley's confidence even further. Draco was unable to force himself to nod along with the others as he remembered with uncomfortable guilt the last time he'd campaigned maliciously for another student. That was two years ago and the student in question had died that summer, murdered by the very wizard Draco had sworn his allegiance to.

****

Draco had been awake for hours on Sunday night, dreading the arrival of another anxiety-ridden week, and would have gladly given anything to stay in bed on Monday morning as everyone got dressed. The relief he felt on seeing both Harry and Weasley in good health at breakfast left him almost light-headed, but he was quick to rearrange his expression to one of disappointment in front of the other Slytherins.

Weasley's recovery from the poisoning had not only cured him of any physical damage; it had also appeared to have knocked some sense into him. During the Potions lesson that Friday, Draco observed him being positively pleasant towards Granger, who seemed more than a little pleased at his attention. Harry, too, looked far more at ease as he chopped his ingredients, but Draco felt a pang of what could only be regret as they could no longer share an exasperated eye-roll at the Weasley-Granger situation.

****

Owing to the pressure of his task and the emotional turmoil Harry caused whenever they so much as eye contact, Draco had completely forgotten that during sixth year everyone would be coming of age. He, himself, didn't turn seventeen for many months yet, but there were plenty who already had, so the announcement that the Apparition test would be held that weekend was greeted with a great deal of panic.

Draco went with a large proportion of students to the entrance hall and watched them nervously leave the castle for Hogsmeade. He caught sight of Granger's bushy hair, accompanied closely by Weasley, and was on his way back to the Slytherin dungeon when a voice spoke softly in his ear,

"I didn't realise you weren't of age either."

Without his knowledge, Harry had sidled up to him and together they watched the last of the sixth years leave.

"Well, you've never asked."

"I never thought I'd want to know," Harry replied instantly, his tone thoughtful.

Confusion and surprise played across Harry's face in a way which Draco recognised as an attempt to make sense of whatever it was that had drawn them together this year. It was a range of emotions he was incredibly familiar with and was about to remark on it when he became aware of Snape's formidable figure at the other end of the corridor, watching the pair of them with narrowed eyes.

Unwilling to be caught conversing amicably with Harry, Draco led the other boy to an empty classroom nearby in a purposeful manner so as to hopefully convince Snape that he knew exactly what he was doing and was working on his task. Harry made no complaint as Draco guided him into one of the Transfiguration classroom and seated himself on one of the desks, swinging his legs.

Draco glanced out into the corridor just to be certain that no one else, other than Snape, had seen them enter. He shut the door and turned around, finding Harry observing him with curiosity. Neither of them said a word and for a moment Draco worried that Harry was trying to think of a way to escape the situation he had found himself in.

His fears were not confirmed, however, when Harry spoke,

"You haven't said when your birthday is yet."

Surprised that Harry genuinely wanted to know, Draco replied,

"Oh, it's in June; just over a month before yours."

Again they lapsed into silence, only this time Draco didn't find it as uncomfortable. He moved closer to Harry until he was standing directly in front of him. From his vantage point on the desk, Harry was for once able to look down on him and he considered Draco intently.

"Why did you gatecrash Slughorn's party? It really wasn't that great and, to be honest, I'd rather have spent the evening elsewhere."

Draco could tell that Harry had been mulling this question over ever since last term and felt his cheeks burn as he remembered how foolish he'd looked that night. Hoping that Harry would understand his embarrassment and not interrogate him in great depth, Draco mumbled,

"It sounded as if it was going to be amazing and I just wanted to see what all the fuss was all about...."

"I overheard Snape talking to you."

Harry sounded awkward, almost as if he was unwilling to pry into something which was obviously a private matter. Taking a deep breath, Draco forced himself to remain calm and brushed off Harry's comment.

"Oh, yeah.....well, Snape was furious with me for being out after curfew; you know what he's like....."

The excuse sounded weak in Draco's own ears and he was unable to meet Harry's eye, so he changed subject.

"There's been a lot of strange things happening lately. Have you noticed that Dumbledore isn't always at Hogwarts?"

He let the observation hang between them, realising that he may be able to gain enough information to keep Snape off his back for the time being. Harry looked as uneasy as Draco had when the party had been mentioned and answered hesitantly,

"I expect he's doing something important because he wouldn't leave the castle for anything that could be dealt with by owl post."

Draco couldn't bring himself to interrogate Harry further, not when they had at least an hour of uninterrupted time together. He reached out and placed a hand cautiously on Harry's thigh, hoping that the other boy wouldn't flinch and disappear out of the room as quickly as he could.

Harry didn't seem averse to the touch and ceased swinging his legs immediately, but to Draco's bewilderment, he didn't appear certain how to reciprocate. For someone who had this kind of attention from girls quite frequently, it was peculiar how lacking in confidence he was.

Deciding to take control, Draco lifted his other hand and placed it at the nape of Harry's neck, allowing his fingers to tangle in the untidy black hair. Harry mirrored his actions and leant forward as Draco tilted his head up.

Unlike their kiss beneath the Invisibility Cloak, this was far more hesitant, almost nervous. They moved their mouths together slowly, exploring tentatively with their tongues. Harry's eyelashes brushed against Draco's cheek as his eyes fluttered closed. Draco shivered involuntarily and wound his arms around Harry's neck more tightly.

Eventually they drew apart breathlessly, but despite the intimacy they had just shared, Harry continued to look unsure of himself.

"What about Pansy? I thought you and her.....together......."

Draco scowled at Harry for ruining the moment with a mention of her and snapped,

"She is singularly the most stupid, empty-headed girl I've ever had the misfortune to meet and no matter how many times I push her away, the message never gets through her thick skull."

Harry seemed mollified by the vehemence with which Draco had denied any relationship with Pansy and pulled him forward for another kiss. Draco resisted, finding it odd that Harry seemed so concerned about Pansy when he had his own horde of female fans.

"Why were you asking about her? You sounded.......jealous, but it should be me feeling like that. I've heard all the rumours about you and the Gryffindor girls."

Harry's eyebrows nearly reached his hairline as his eyes widened. He spluttered a response,

"_Rumours?_ What......I've never.......there's only been Cho and she --"

"_Only_ Cho? You mean to tell me that you've never taken advantage of your status as the 'Chosen One?'"

Draco could hardly believe it, but Harry's cheeks were tinged deep crimson and he muttered,

"No, I just.....I guess girls aren't really my thing......"

Draco found Harry's discomfort incredibly endearing and spoke softly,

"Yeah? Well, I'm not all that into them myself, but I've only realised that recently."

He pressed his lips against Harry's gently, stroking the other boy's cheek gently with the back of his hand as he tried to reassure him that he was in no way mocking his lack of experience.

Harry relaxed and began to return the kiss with a tenderness that made Draco's breath catch in his throat.

****

Snape lost no time in cornering Draco the next day and quizzing him about his interchange with Harry. Draco confidently brushed off Snape's questioning, feeling as though he had made great progress.

Admittedly, this may have been owing to the surge of happiness that he felt whenever he remembered the soft pressure of Harry's mouth on his, but it was true: he _had_ found some valuable information about Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was definitely leaving the school for something terribly important, which Draco could only assume was to do with defeating Voldemort. He told Snape as much, but instead of being pleased that Draco had made some headway, the professor demanded to know his plan of action.

Although he continued to reject Snape's offer of assistance, the constant reminder of his task's purpose weighed heavily on his mind and Draco often found himself despairing. Snape's interrogation had severely undermined his self-confidence and the enormity of actually murdering the Dumbledore threatened to overwhelm him.

Though it had thoroughly shocked and disgusted him at the time, Draco clung to the fact that he had been able to injure a student enough for them to be transferred to St Mungo's, so actually killing someone else was only another small step.

He refused to visualise the cold, limp body of the Headmaster lying at his feet and spent many nights feverishly tossing and turning to prevent himself from imagining the confrontation between himself and Dumbledore.

****

The day he discovered the Gryffindors to be in a celebratory mood had begun like any other: he had woken from a fitful sleep, exhausted and drained before he had even dressed, and stumbled to the Great Hall for breakfast with a throbbing headache.

Both the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs also seemed in a state of great excitement and many of them had crowded around the Gryffindor table. Draco tried to ignore the noisy babble of chatter as he toyed with his porridge, stirring it absentmindedly with his spoon. He only looked up when his own House began to confer with one another, glancing over their shoulders at the other tables.

As the students gradually returned to their seats, Draco noted with surprise that, for once, it hadn't been Harry at the centre of attention. Draco's spoon clattered on the table top and he ignored the curious gazes of the other Slytherins as he stared over at the girl he thought would never be fit to return to Hogwarts.

For the second time that term, Draco fled from the Great Hall with a hot, prickling sensation in his eyes. He knew that Snape would have seen him and the thought of the professor's gloating, triumphant sneer only spurred him on further, his lungs feeling as if they were about to burst. The green and silver tie around his neck seemed to be restricting his breathing and he yanked it loose to prevent it from choking him. He stormed into a bathroom, but with enough foresight to check the sign on the door to ensure that this was definitely not a girl's toilet.

Other than the steady drip of the leaking taps, the bathroom was deserted and Draco rushed to a nearby basin, unsure as to whether he was going to vomit or pass out. He stared unseeingly at the rusty plughole, unable to look at his own reflection in the grimy mirror as his chest heaved with heavy sobs.

Thoughts of his inadequacy, of his incompetence which he had been trying desperately to suppress emerged with a sickening jolt of fear. Every plan that he had contrived and every attempt he had made to complete the task had failed with catastrophic results. He wasn't even capable of successfully cursing another student, let alone commit the murder of the most powerful sorcerer of the age.

Draco let the tears stream unrestrained down his face, biting down on the knuckles of his hand to prevent the sound of his pitiful crying from carrying too far. Despite his best efforts, the sound must have echoed down the school plumbing because Moaning Myrtle rose out of a cubicle almost instantly and glided over to him. Behind her thick-framed glasses, her eyes softened with understanding sympathy.

"Don't," she crooned. "Don't....tell me what's wrong......I can help you....."

"No one can help me."

The words spilled from Draco's mouth as the full horror of his position became painfully apparent. It now seemed absurd that he could even contemplate carrying out the task, much less actually succeed. His whole body was shaking so violently that it was difficult to speak and he clung to the basin for support.

"I can't do it......I can't.......it's impossible.......and if I don't do it soon......he says he'll kill me...."

Myrtle continued to try and reassure him, even making an effort to stroke his hair with her translucent hand, when Draco heard the unambiguous sound of the door creaking open behind him. Ashamed that someone had caught him crying pathetically in the company of a ghost and enraged that they dared interrupt him, he spun round, his vision obscured by a haze of tears.

All the frustration and despair he had felt at his own abilities came bubbling to the surface and he raised his wand, shouting,

"Cruci --"

With all the instinctive reflexes of a born auror, the intruder whipped out their own wand and bellowed,

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Invisible blades slashed across Draco's chest and his knees buckled as the burning pain almost blinded him. He collapsed on the damp floor of the bathroom, feeling his own warm, sticky blood seeping from the cursed gashes and onto his white uniform shirt.

Myrtle's voice resounded hollowly around the tiled room and as Draco's thoughts became less and less coherent, he could have sworn he saw Harry staring at him with his wand lowered. Breathing in shallow gasps, he blinked and Harry, if that really had been him, was replaced by Snape who rushed to his side, his face livid.

He traced his wand over the wounds and Draco felt as though his skin was being pulled and knitted together as the professor muttered a complicated incantation under his breath. The sound of his deep, hypnotic voice washed over Draco and his sight darkened. Almost as if he was miles away, Snape's words sounded distant and Draco allowed himself to be hoisted up to a standing position like a limp ragdoll.

Before Snape carried him from the bathroom, Draco's head lolled back and he caught sight of the Gryffindor again, the realisation that Harry had been the one to curse him only registering faintly in his mind. Draco wanted to say something, anything to make Harry stop standing frozen in the blood-stained water and staring transfixed at him in horror, but the bathroom door swung shut and he sunk into oblivion.

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	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Draco could vaguely remember Madam Pomfrey lifting his head so as to pour the contents of a smoking goblet, probably a Sleeping Draught, down his throat. He wondered what had managed to wake him from such a deep, dreamless sleep when he caught the sound of cautious footsteps trying to make their way quietly across the hospital wing.

The office door remained closed with all light extinguished, though at this hour it was unlikely to be Madam Pomfrey checking up on him anyway. Draco tried to raise his head from the pillow to find out who the intruder was, but a sharp, tearing pain from his chest forced him to lie still.

He suddenly became aware of a warm, solid pressure resting on the bed beside his legs and the nervous breathing of another person. Draco had his suspicions as to their identity and stretched his fingers out slowly, trying to avoid damaging his healing skin. His hand came into contact with a piece of familiar slippery material and he grasped a piece, pulling it towards him.

A chink in the hospital wing curtains cast enough moonlight into the room for Draco to make out the tense form of Harry with the Cloak swathed around his shoulders. The Gryffindor sat hunched on the bed, looking as if he was prepared to make a run for it should the situation turn confrontational.

His head was bowed and he spoke so softly under his breath that Draco had to strain his ears to hear.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean....I had no idea......."

Draco was able to stretch his arm just enough to brush Harry's hand with his own, but at the touch the other boy flinched and pulled away.

Speaking urgently, Draco whispered,

"It's okay, really, it is. I don't blame you for it, especially considering I was going to use an Unforgiveable on you."

"But you're........"

Harry couldn't continue, but his meaning was perfectly clear to Draco, who finished the sentence,

".......a lying, untrustworthy Slytherin."

He had meant to keep his tone light, but was unable to prevent a note of bitterness creeping in. Harry looked ashamed, even repulsed, by his own behaviour and Draco was desperate not to let his guilt ruin whatever had grown between them.

He tried to distract the other boy from his self-loathing by asking,

"Where did you find that curse? I've never heard of it before."

"It's one of the spells in my Potions book that I hadn't tried. I know it sounds stupid, but I can't help feeling........betrayed. I always the thought the Prince was just a particularly bright student, not someone who would invent curses like _that_. I've hidden the book away somewhere safe so no one else will make the same mistake."

He still didn't raise his head and still refused to look over at Draco, who was becoming increasingly alarmed at the depth of Harry's guilt.

"Harry, look at me......._Harry!_"

Draco's voice had risen well above a whisper in his urgency and at the sound of his name, Harry finally turned his head. Having captured his attention, Draco wasn't prepared to lose it, so he ignored the agonising pain as he forced himself to lean forward and grasp Harry's hand.

"It wasn't your fault, so please don't punish yourself for what happened. Madam Pomfrey has managed to heal me completely and I'll soon be out of here."

In truth, Draco had no idea how much damage had been done, but as he lay back down, exhausted, Harry appeared to be comforted by his words and asked tentatively,

"Did it......did it scar?"

Draco hadn't considered this possibility and frowned.

"I don't know; I haven't looked."

He pushed the covers back and attempted to unbutton his pyjama top. Harry must have noticed his wince because he quickly reached out and stilled Draco's hands.

Sighing, Draco said,

"Well, if you're not going to let me do it myself, the least you can do is help."

Hesitantly, Harry undid the buttons so Draco's thin, pale chest was completely exposed. From his position, Draco was unable to tilt his head enough to see. He looked over at Harry who was staring down at his chest with both horror and fascination. His expression was perplexing and he didn't seem willing to speak, much less touch Draco.

Speaking in a voice much quieter than before, Draco asked,

"Is it bad?"

Very slowly, Harry inched his hand forward, hovering over Draco's skin until he gently pressed his index finger to one of the healing gashes. Though his touch was feather-light, Draco felt the aching pain of a serious bruise and prayed that the effects of the curse wouldn't be lasting.

Eventually, Harry spoke with a touch of awe in his voice,

"They're healed completely, but there are fading marks all over your chest. They show up more because you're so pale and........"

He didn't finish and, instead, leaned over, carefully holding his weight above Draco's body. They were barely an inch apart when Harry breathed,

"Can I?"

For an answer, Draco lifted his head slightly to capture Harry's mouth. The strain of holding his neck up became too much, but Harry was unwilling to break off, so he allowed Draco to rest back on the pillow and kissed him with a touching level of gentleness.

As the moonlight gradually faded, only to be replaced by the pale light of the morning, Harry reluctantly took his leave. He concealed himself with the Invisibility Cloak and crept out of the hospital wing, but not before he fastened the buttons on Draco's pyjamas and covered him with the blankets.

****

It took another week for Madam Pomfrey to release him with the promise that he would not partake of any further duels. The cuts had mostly faded to a pale pink, edged with silver and Draco suffered no discomfort, save a dull ache if he moved abruptly.

Even if such an impossible task hadn't hung over him like a storm cloud, Draco would have had great difficulty spending time alone with Harry, but now he was doing all he could to avoid the boy. The hurt, bewildered expression Harry wore when looking over at him only increased Draco's attempts to keep his distance. He could no longer continue deceiving the boy, not when they had grown closer than he thought possible.

Draco was unable to face the idea of formulating a complex plan and, instead, resorted to lingering outside Dumbledore's office whenever he had the time. He dutifully kept a record of all the headmaster's doings that he was aware of, but the constant strain he had been under since last summer had gradually gnawed aware at his sense of purpose.

By day, he became distant, staring vacantly out of the windows during lessons, though at night he struggled to sleep as he sweated and thrashed about in his narrow bed.

Outside the sky changed to a clear periwinkle blue, the grounds bursting with colour as summer approached, but Draco remained in the shadow of the castle and tried to ignore the excited shouts of the other students enjoying the warmer weather.

After his initial panic, Draco had felt an immense surge of honour at being chosen for Voldemort's task and he had returned to Hogwarts in September brimming with confidence. The great sense of self-importance he had felt at having such a huge responsibility had faded over time, until he finally accepted Snape's offer of help.

The professor eyed him coldly, but made no mocking comments as Draco destroyed the last of the Malfoy pride by admitting his incompetence. However, he was disappointed to find that Snape didn't have a flawless plan ready to put into action and only ordered Draco to maintain a watch on Dumbledore's office, reporting any strange occurrences.

****

As another beautiful, cloudless day drew to a close, Draco was on the point of leaving his post outside the headmaster's office when Harry came racing down the corridor with a scroll of parchment clutched in his hand. Draco shrunk back behind a suit of armour, but Harry had already spotted him.

"Why are you hiding here?"

Unable to think of a convincing excuse, Draco shrugged and tried to look anywhere but the other boy. Harry appeared to be in a great hurry because he didn't demand a response and continued,

"Draco, we need to talk about this," he gestured between them. "One minute you're begging me not to blame myself for cursing you and the next; you're avoiding me for weeks. I don't understand it, but Dumbledore has asked to see me urgently. I'll speak to you when I get back."

Harry spoke the password and disappeared before Draco could reply, so he made his way to Snape's office slowly. Reporting everything he had seen and heard during his watch, Draco was surprised at the agitated manner of the professor when he learnt that Harry was leaving the school with Dumbledore. Usually he dismissed Draco instantly, but today he ordered him to conceal himself in the Astronomy Tower and wait for the headmaster's return.

Draco hurried back to the Slytherin dungeon for his thicker cloak, but was waylaid by Peeves who blocked the corridor and forced him to take a much longer route. He eventually made it to his dormitory, only to be accosted by Pansy on his way out.

Draco knew that it took a great deal to worry Snape, so Dumbledore's absence this evening must be extremely important. As he realised this, a shiver of dread coursed through Draco's body and he knew that this was to be his only chance to complete the task. After tonight he would never succeed and would have to face the wrath of Voldemort.

He finally made it to the foot of the Astronomy Tower and rushed up the steps with his wand drawn. Pausing near the top to catch his breath, he listening intently and heard a murmur of voices above him. As he crept up the last few steps, Draco stumbled and cursed under his breath, hoping that he hadn't been heard.

Bursting through the door, Draco directed his wand at the silhouetted figure on the parapets and shouted,

"Expelliarmus!"

He had expected his spell to be easily deflected, but Dumbledore's wand flew instantly from his hands as if he hadn't even tried to block the Disarmament. The headmaster's voice was courteous and almost pleasant,

"Good evening, Draco."

Stepping out of the shadows, Draco cautiously approached him and was shocked when the light of his wand illuminated Dumbledore's ashen, exhausted face. He glanced around quickly and noticed two brooms propped against the stone walls.

"Who else is here?" He demanded, but even as he asked, Draco was straining his eyes in the darkness to find Harry. The Gryffindor was nowhere to be seen, for which Draco was extremely grateful because with Harry watching he knew he would be unable to continue.

Dumbledore answered with a question of his own,

"I might ask you the same, or are you acting alone?"

"Snape's been interfering all year, but he was he who told me to come here tonight."

"Ah, I see. You are, in fact, quite alone then because Professor Snape had been keeping watch over you on my orders."

Draco fought the urge to laugh scornfully at Dumbledore's words. The headmaster really was going senile in his old age if he believed someone as slimy and deceitful as Snape, and Draco told him as much.

Dumbledore seemed unconcerned by the question of his own judgement and replied,

"I happen to trust Professor Snape. How could he have known I would return here if I hadn't told him myself?"

Although Draco sneered again, he felt a small twinge of doubt which grew with alarming speed when he examined it.

How _had _Snape known to send him to the Astronomy Tower? Of all the places Dumbledore could have returned to, this was hardly the most likely, and yet Snape had been so certain when he had given the orders.

Dumbledore's voice, weak though it was, managed to interrupt his thoughts.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

The understanding in Dumbledore's tone stung more painfully than a curse as he hit upon the fear that had threatened to overwhelm Draco all year and now suspend his wand arm in mid air.

Draco retorted immediately, but his words sounded pathetically childish,

"How do you know? You don't know what I'm capable of! You don't know what I've done!"

"Oh, yes, I do. You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying with increasing desperation to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they were feeble attempts.....so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder if your heart has really been in it."

Dumbledore was right, of course he was right and Draco noticed with a stab of unease that the headmaster was breathing erratically, leaning against the stone wall as if he was on the point of collapse. He was only a defenceless old man at Draco's mercy, but his words held more power than an Unforgiveable.

"I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. There is little time, one way or another, so let us discuss your options."

"I haven't _got_ any options!" Draco voice rose in terror as he was reminded once again of the price of failure. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. Your mother can be brought to safety, too, and your father will come to no harm at the moment in Azkaban."

Images of Narcissa's haggard face, her beauty corroded by endless anxiety and Lucius: once so proud and imposing, now wretched in a prison cell, flashed before Draco's eyes. Wand slick with sweat beneath his trembling fingers, Draco's heart pounded furiously, his pulse racing.

Despite his terribly weakened state, Dumbledore managed to retain his dignity and calmly surveyed Draco over his half-moon spectacles. The startlingly bright blue eyes fixed on his own with a penetrating stare, so different form Voldemort's malicious red glare and Snape's icy black gaze, that expressed only compassion and pity.

In that moment, Draco felt as if time itself had stopped completely and in a dream-like state he found himself wondering if Dumbledore knew of his relationship with Harry. Voldemort frequently mocked the headmaster's insistence that love was the single most powerful force on earth, but a part of Draco's mind far removed from his current predicament acknowledged that Dumbledore was, in fact, right about that too.

What else could have driven him to act as he had all year, but love of his family and an indefinable emotion he felt towards Harry?

All this rushed through Draco's head in a matter of seconds and he was on the point of lowering his shaking arm when someone thundered up the stairs and burst onto the ramparts. His black robes swirling about him, Snape strode to Draco's side, his cold voice cutting harshly through the air.

"Well, Draco? Are you going to do it?"

Frozen in terror, Draco swallowed with great difficulty, unable to tear his eyes from the slumped figure of the headmaster. Snape's mouth twisted in disgust and he sneered,

"Clearly you aren't capable of finishing the task, even when I laid it out so easily for you. The Dark Lord knows what is to happen tonight and will not be pleased with your inaction. Perhaps he is travelling here as we speak."

"Severus......please......"

With a groan, Dumbledore had spoken softly, his plea barely above a whisper. Snape gazed at him for a moment, revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face as he raised his wand, pointing it directly at the headmaster's chest.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

There was a flash of blinding green light as Dumbledore was blasted into the air, falling backwards over the parapet and out of sight. Paralysed with shock, Draco's mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Snape clenched his arm tightly, dragging him back down the stairs and through the school filled with sleeping students, each one blissfully ignorant of the murder.

Draco's legs moved automatically as he followed Snape in a trance, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. They left through the main entrance, a slight balmy summer breeze ruffling their hair as they made their way across the grounds. Draco stared back at the base of the Astronomy Tower and caught sight of an indistinct figure sprinting across the moonlit grass towards them.

A jet of red light shot over their heads just as they reached the trees and Snape forcibly pushed Draco into the forest, shouting,

"_Run, Draco!"_

An all too familiar voice yelled a curse and, ducking behind the protection of a tree, Draco watched helplessly as Harry attempted to duel with Snape. The professor blocked every half-articulated spell with ease and refused to retaliate, even when Harry screamed,

"Fight back! Fight back, you coward!"

Staggering blindly, Harry drew nearer to the trees until he was mere feet away from Draco. A look of fierce concentration blazed across his face which Draco recognised as the intense effort needed for performing a non-verbal spell.

Snpae must have been using Legilimency for he appeared to hear the spell before it was cast and deflected it, spitting,

"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them – I, the Half-Blood Prince!"

Draco lost his balance on hearing this revelation, his movement betraying his position. Harry stared past Snape, catching Draco's eye and they shared a fleeting moment of mutual realisation about the Potions textbook. The brief contact was abruptly severed as Snape Disarmed Harry and knocked him off his feet when he tried to retrieve his wand.

Sprawled on the grass, gasping with exertion, Harry's only weapon left was his words and he panted,

"Kill me, then. Kill me like you killed my parents, you coward."

He must have touched a raw nerve because Snape immediately lost any semblance of self-control and shrieked,

"DON'T CALL ME A COWARD!"

With a whip-like motion, he sent another curse in Harry's direction and turned his back on the school, his eyes ablaze with anger. Roughly grasping the back of Draco's cloak, Snape strode through the trees to the boundaries of Hogwarts just as Harry managed to heave himself into a sitting position.

Draco pulled out of Snape's grip in time to see Hagrid burst out of his hut and rush over to Harry. Eyes meeting with the other boy for only a second, Draco tried to convey all his grief and regret in one glance before he retreated into the forest after Snape, knowing that he could never return to Hogwarts again.

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	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

_One year later_

It was cruelly ironic how Hogwarts; a stronghold against Dark magic for centuries, was to play host to the second great battle of the age. As he fled through the forest, Draco had been certain that he would never cross the threshold of the school again, but on Lucius' release from Azkaban, Narcissa had insisted that he return, especially as Voldemort was using their manor as his headquarters.

'The safest place to be,' they had called it, though Draco reflected that this claim no longer rang true seeing as the seemingly omnipotent headmaster had been usurped by his murderer. While his parents refused to speak of Dumbledore, Draco thought of him frequently and had felt terribly uneasy as he travelled aboard the Hogwarts Express to a school no longer protected by one of the greatest sorcerers to date.

Hogwarts itself had changed beyond recognition as along with a different headmaster, a wave of new professors had infiltrated the school.

'Professors,' Draco contemplated as a child's scream rose from the dungeons, was far too loose a term. They were more like 'licensed torturers' who fully exploited their position of power.

All year Draco had been trying to fade into the background, observing without participating in Snape's reign of terror, and he was largely successful. Despite his efforts last year, the Malfoy name had been metaphorically trampled into the mud and even his former victim, Longbottom, regarded him with contempt.

If the year had retained any degree of normality, the summer term would have been crammed with intensive revision, but it seemed that Voldemort was abolishing all ministry-approved exams as he gave the Death Eaters a free reign to instruct the students in the finer points of muggle torture. Without the NEWTs to occupy him, Draco had a great deal of free time on his hands, though he often remained closeted in the common room.

The Slytherin dungeon was one of the few place that had been unaffected by the school's upheaval and from there Draco could almost fool himself that the corruption outside was only the product of an overactive imagination coupled with a tendency for vivid nightmares. Of course, whenever he set foot in the corridors, it became inescapably apparent that Hogwarts was no longer the same castle he had entered as a nervous, excited first year.

However, regardless of the school's revolution, the kitchen seemed unchanged as the house elves continued to serve their usual delicious food at meal times. Draco stared around the Great Hall one morning and wondered why no one thought to tell the elves that there were scarcely enough students to finish even a quarter of the food.

The numbers had started to diminish at the start of the autumn term and with each holiday there were more disappearances. The Gryffindor table was particularly depleted, though Draco was astute enough to realise that the remnants of Dumbledore's Army would not have abandoned the school to the Death Eaters in order to save their own skin.

Despite their absence, Longbottom, Weasley's sister and the others were still managing to wreak havoc with their graffiti and sabotage, so Draco could only assume that they had found a secure place to hide within the school. He was careful to keep this thought out of mind when in the presence of other Death Eaters, especially Snape, because although he was unable to aid the resistance, the idea of causing more harm to his fellow students was too terrible to contemplate.

****

When the ugly, black mark on his forearm began to burn Draco had been considering leaving the common room for his dormitory and at least attempt to rest, even if he couldn't sleep. Voldemort had left clear instructions for the Death Eaters to control the school and only Summon him if it was a matter of undeniable importance. They had been left in no doubt as to the severity of punishment they would all face if he was called for a trivial matter.

As Draco pulled his sleeve down over his arm, trying to ignore the hideous snake-tongued skull, Slughorn burst into the dungeon. His chest heaving beneath his green silk pyjamas, the Potions master wheezed before clearing his throat and shouting,

"All students are to make their way to the Great Hall for evacuation. Take only what you can carry."

The dormitory doors were flung open with a crash as the Slytherins, many yawning and rubbing their eyes, poured into the common room. The instructions had to be repeated several times for the message to sink in until, eventually, everyone had grabbed their cloaks and pushed their way out of the concealed entrance.

Draco was swept along with the crowd and found a seat at the end of the Slytherin table as McGonagall laid out the plan to help the students out of the castle. Those who were of age were granted permission to stay for the battle and Draco noticed Harry, unaccompanied by either Weasley or Granger, trying unsuccessfully to creep through the hall.

The thought that it was Harry's return to Hogwarts which had triggered all this activity had briefly crossed Draco's mind, but he had refused to seriously entertain the idea. He barely had time to marvel at Harry's stupidity for walking right into a trap when a high voice, cold and clear, began to speak,

"I know you are preparing to fight." Many of the students screamed and Draco shivered, feeling as if Voldemort was standing right behind him, breathing down his neck. "You cannot fight me and I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. You have until midnight."

The silence that followed was unbearably heavy as no one dared to so much as breathe. Draco stared over at Harry, who was standing rooted to the spot as all eyes fixed on him, when Pansy's shrill voice screeched,

"But he's there! Potter's _there_! Someone grab him!"

Hot, bubbling rage coursed through Draco's veins at her cowardice and he had half risen from his seat when almost the entire student body stood and pointed their wands at the Slytherins.

With obvious disgust, McGonagall spoke in a clipped voice,

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson. You will leave the hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."

As one the Slytherin table rose, trooping out of the doors behind the caretaker and Draco found himself buffeted along with them. He tried to force his way back, but soon many other students, most of them underage, were clamouring to escape.

McGonagall gave further instructions to those staying to fight and her voice carried over the cacophony of noise,

"Potter, _aren't you supposed to be looking for something?"_

Draco caught sight of Harry rushing out of the hall and gave up his struggle to return to the group of students being organised into a battle plan. It was extremely unlikely that they would accept him into their ranks anyway, not with his close connection with Voldemort, so he hurried out of the hall in the same direction as Harry.

Crabbe and Goyle managed to extract themselves from the stampede of students and followed hot on his heels. To Draco's surprise, they soon overtook him and hurtled after Harry with their wands drawn.

"What are you doing? Crabbe, Goyle, _wait!_"

Goyle yelled over his shoulder,

"We're gonna catch Potter!"

Draco knew with a horrible certainty that Crabbe and Goyle would easily be able to catch up with Harry, so he hurled a volley of curses and jinxes at them, hoping to waylay them enough for the other boy to escape. The distraction worked because Crabbe and Goyle skidded to a halt and raised their wands to fight back.

With his mother's wand feeling so uncomfortable in his hands, Draco's spells had less of an impact than they usually would, but he was able to parry most of the curses aimed in his direction. From further down the corridor there was a great crash of shattering glass and through one of the nearby windows, Draco caught a glimpse of an enormous giant peering into the school.

Taking the opportunity to continue their pursuit, Crabbe and Goyle sped off. Draco panted and ran after them, though the distance was growing with every step. He paused for moment, leaning against the wall as he mopped his brow.

Harry was desperately searching for something, though what exactly Draco had no idea. He could only be certain that whatever it was, it had to be hidden somewhere impenetrable. He ticked off various possible locations in his head: the headmaster's office, the Chamber of Secrets, when it suddenly came to him in a flash of inspiration. With a surge of energy, he set off again, but now with a definite purpose.

Under Umbridge's tyrannical regime, Harry and his friends had been forced to take their activities undercover and had hidden in the Room of Requirement. Draco had watched them enter easily enough, but it had been impossible to break in. Surely this would be the ideal place to hide something of great importance, so that would be where Harry was heading.

He had no idea what he was going to do when he reached the place, but he sped up in time to see Crabbe and Goyle casting Disillusionment Charms on themselves and slipping into the room. Draco was just in time to dart in behind them as the door sealed and stood frozen in awe at the magnitude of the place.

Compared to the chaos in the rest of the school, the musty atmosphere in there was deadly calm and Draco hovered uncertainly by a shelf of cracked glass bottles. He could have been the only person inside the vast chamber as he cautiously walked down an aisle, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by layers of collected dust.

Suddenly, to his right he heard a shout and rushed round the corner to see Crabbe and Goyle pointing their wands directly at Harry. Unseen, Draco crept forward as Harry asked,

"So, why aren't you two with Voldemort?"

With gloating pride, Crabbe smiled and answered in an unnervingly soft voice,

"We're gonna be rewarded. We 'ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to 'im."

Draco could see Harry's eyes flicking between Crabbe and Goyle, obviously trying to find an escape as he spoke casually,

"Good plan. How did you get in here?"

"We can do Diss-lusion Charms now and we followed you. You said you were looking for a die-dum. What's a die-dum?"

Goyle's question had clearly wrong footed Harry, but he didn't reply because Weasley's voice echoed around the room.

"Harry? Are you talking to someone?"

Immediately, Crabbe turned his wand on a mountain of old furniture and made it collapse into the aisle where Weasley was. Harry bellowed a spell to steady the tottering pile of objects when Crabbe raised his wand again.

Draco leapt forward and grabbed Crabbe's arm, shouting,

"No! If you wreck the room, you might bury this diedem thing!"

He felt Harry's eyes on him and hoped that the other boy would realise that he was trying to help, not take the diedem for himself.

Roughly pushing him aside, Crabbe stepped forward and sneered with undisguised ferocity,

"I don't take your orders no more, _Draco_. You an' your dad are finished."

Both Crabbe and Goyle advanced on Harry, who lunged for a rusty old tiara. To Draco's horror, Crabbe shot a Killing Curse at the Gryffindor and he screamed,

"Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!"

Harry had dodged the Unforgivable, but Crabbed laughed before igniting the nearest shelf of objects. The fire began to spread with unnatural speed and Draco lost sight of Harry as a stack of cauldrons collapsed. Grabbing Goyle's arm he raced down an aisle, the cursed fire devouring the contents of the room.

An unstable tower of desks reared into view and he hauled himself onto it, climbing higher and higher as the cruel tongues of flame licked at his ankles. Finally, he reached the very last desk and perched unsteadily on top of it. Black smoke rose from the fire, choking him as the heat burned his eyes.

He screamed without restraint as a few desks below him caught fire and out of nowhere a hand stretched down to him. He stared up, hardly able to see through the smoke, and saw with an overwhelming wave of emotion that Harry had not deserted him. Pulling himself onto the broom, he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's waist and they shot through the smoke in the direction of the doorway.

Harry dived to catch something and Draco felt a searing heat of the flames scorch his skin. His throat was raw and painful, but he screamed until his lungs nearly burst and squeezed Harry's body so tightly he must have been restricting the other boy's breathing.

Without warning, the wondrously clear air of the corridor washed over them and they toppled off the broom, fortunately only a foot above the ground. Draco still had his arms clenched around Harry, who wheezed and coughed, but showed no sign of moving away.

Weasley had deposited Goyle nearby and was standing beside Granger, both of them bearing traces of soot and a little blood. Reaching out his hand, Weasley grasped Harry's arm and heaved him up and away from Draco. The trio stared down at the rusty tiara in Harry's hand and exhaled what sounded like a sign of relief.

Draco remained slumped against the wall, the inside of his mouth coated with ash and his breathing ragged. His mind reeled as he realised that one of his own trio hadn't made it out of the room and he stammered, his voice hoarse,

"C – Crabbe.......C – Crabbe......"

There wasn't a shred of sympathy in Weasley's voice as he spoke harshly,

"He's dead."

Together, Granger and Weasley set off down the corridor, discussing something of great importance in urgent tones. Harry only paused long enough to spare Draco a brief glance, but there was a peculiar look in his eye, almost as if he was struggling with an inner conflict. He made up his mind quickly as Weasley called his name and glanced over his shoulder once more as he hurried after his friends.

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	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

Draco stared after Harry for a long moment until Hogwarts shook with a violent blast. Somewhere nearby part of the wall had caved in and the shouted incantations of the duellers resonated throughout the school. Staggering to his feet, Goyle groaned as Draco tried to wake him and they stumbled along the corridor in the opposite direction to Harry.

Death Eaters and students alike rushed past them, all firing spells and trying to avoid the falling stone as a pair of giants began to tear the building apart. They had managed to destroy and entire tower and from the gaping hole, Draco could see swarms of Dementors gliding across the grounds. He shuddered with fear and could feel their icy cold presence from many feet above. He had no idea where exactly he was heading for, only aware that he needed to find comparative safety and avoid a confrontation with either a Death Eater or a fellow student.

In the midst of the anarchic chaos, Voldemort's voice reverberated around the school once again causing every duel to be paused mid-spell as each individual listened with trepidation.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour.

I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest and if, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, the battle recommences. One hour."

Instantly, the Death Eaters melted from the castle and in droves they made their way to the forest. Draco watched them through a shattered window pane and felt no inclination to join them. He searched the mass of black for his parents, but the light was too dim to make out even their distinctive blond hair. Hoping that they were not among the many figures lying motionless on the grass, he set off down a deserted corridor.

Goyle had been separated from him at some point, but he didn't bother searching for his former accomplice. Instead, he was possessed with a fierce desperation to find Harry and prevent him from entering the forest. If he succeeded, the battle would resume and he would take up arms against Voldemort and his followers.

He would undoubtedly be slain as easily as a first year attempting to duel, but if that meant Harry would have a little longer to live, a sliver of a chance to escape, then it would be worth it. Draco was not one for heroic self-sacrifices, but he was prepared to do anything if it gave Harry an opportunity for survival.

The entrance hall was packed with people carrying what appeared to be statues, but were, of course, the corpses of their friends and family. No one paid Draco any heed as he slipped into the Great Hall and made his way through the crowd. Neither Harry, Weasley nor Granger were anywhere to be seen, so Draco stepped out into the grounds, staring out at the trees he had vanished into this time last year.

He watched as Longbottom returned again and again to collect the bodies and marvelled at the change in the timid, talentless boy who had managed to melt a cauldron in every Potions lesson. Draco didn't dare approach him, but from a distance he was able to cast Feather-Light Charms on the corpses and even Levitate a few so they could be easily transported into the hall.

His mind was utterly blank and emotionless as he recognised the faces of so many fellow students, though he knew their vacant stares would stay with him for as long as he lived.

****

Whether he had fallen into an uneasy sleep or lost consciousness, Draco couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn he had felt the brush of slippery fabric against his skin. Instantly alert again, Draco cursed himself for not remembering that Harry was probably making use of his Invisibility Cloak to conceal himself from view.

With a start, Draco became aware of a wave of black emerging from the forest and to his horror, he realised that Voldemort and the Death Eaters were heading towards the school. He fleetingly considered running inside to warn everyone when Voldemort's voice, magically magnified, swelled through the grounds,

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.

The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared."

Even as the words echoed in Draco's ears, he was dismissing them as another of Voldemort's lies, but the mass of Death Eaters drew closer and he saw Hagrid being pushed forward. Behind Draco the remaining students, professors and members of the Order flooded onto the castle steps and fanned out.

Voldemort continued to approach and Draco caught sight of a bundle in the gamekeeper's arms, the pale skin and black hair of –

_NO!_

How could this have happened? It couldn't be real; surely it was just an illusion, a clever deceit of Voldemort to sway the outcome of the war in his favour.

Hagrid's face was streaming with tears, and the crowd on the steps took a sharp intake of breath. Draco's jaw slackened and his mouth hung open, his eyes widened as he struggled to make sense of what he saw.

It was undeniably Harry lying in Hagrid's arms.

Harry's dead body........Harry's body........dead..........

Draco swayed and he was unable to tear his gaze away from the face he had come to know so intimately. Around him, the crowd began to hurl insults at Voldemort, swearing that Harry had beaten him, that Harry wasn't dead, that they hadn't lost the battle.

Out of nowhere, Longbottom ran forward and Bellatrix laughed, cold and deranged. Draco was unable to see exactly what happened, but suddenly Voldemort was igniting the Sorting Hat on Longbottom's head. From the forest, a giant thundered towards them and the crowd scattered.

Draco pushed his way forward, hell bent on retrieving Harry's body and preventing him from being trampled on, but the battle had recommenced and he was forced back inside the castle. Crushed against students and Death Eaters alike, Draco was carried along with the crowd towards the Great Hall.

He tried in vain to turn back and craned his neck over the sea of people in an attempt to see what had happened to Harry. All around him duels were breaking out and he threaded his way through the knots of people, casting Shield Charms left, right and centre as the light of a thousand deadly curses flashed about the hall.

Draco caught sight of his aunt falling at Weasley's mother's hand, finally beaten after inflicting irreparable damage on the Wizarding World, and felt a peculiar numbness steal over his body. Nearby, he heard his parents screaming his name and they raced towards him, heedless of the fatal spells being shot over their heads.

Reunited with their son, Lucius and Narcissa clutched onto him and refused to let go. Together they tried to drag Draco through the crowds and away from the danger, but he stood his ground, watching in despair as Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Mrs Weasley.

"_Protego!_"

Sounding as if it had been magically magnified, Harry's voice resounded around the hall and Draco felt an immense jolt of shock as the Gryffindor stepped forward. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, and yet there Harry was; defiant, fearless and inexplicably alive.

Voldemort hissed, his soulless red eye betraying his complete disorientation at Harry's inconceivable survival. They began circling one another; the crowd motionless as the two wizards drew their wands and spoke. Their words held little meaning for Draco as they spoke of something called a 'horcrux,' and he focused instead on every movement Harry made, willing each step he took not to be a wrong move.

With a rush of remembrance, Draco realised that the wand in Harry's hand was, in fact, the very one that had been taken from him during the chaos at Malfoy Manor. The events of that horrifying day when Harry had been captured by the Snatchers had played repeatedly in Draco's mind all year and he re-lived the scene again with practiced ease.

Each detail was burned into his memory as he recalled the devastating panic he had felt as Harry, Weasley and Granger had been unceremoniously shoved into the manor's hallway by Fenrir Greyback. He had fought the overwhelming impulse to run up the stairs and hide, for the first time wishing that he was unable to set eyes on Harry.

When asked to identify the boy, who was clearly suffering the ill-effects of a Stinging Hex, he had very reluctantly stepped forward, afraid to look directly at Harry for fear that he would break down and give everything away. He had been forced to witness Granger's torture and the scene still caused bile to rise acidic and bitter in his throat. Jeering at the girl at school for her brains and her blood-status had left no permanent mark on his conscience, but seeing her reduced to a screaming wreck in his own home was intolerable.

Somehow, with that remarkable ability to find a way out of the tightest of corners, Harry had managed to escape, but not before Disarming him and Disapparating. Draco had felt momentarily bereft without his wand, but the more he thought about it, the more hope he could draw from the fact that Harry was now in possession of something he had owned. It was absurd, but Draco had felt as if in taking his wand, Harry was now in a better position to win the war, or at least defend himself, even though he had a perfectly good wand of his own,

Now, as Voldemort and Harry confronted each other, Draco could only pray that his wand would be wielded skilfully enough to protect its new bearer's life. With all his attention on the wand, the actual conversation between the two wizards had past Draco by and the sudden exclamations brought him sharply back to the present.

As Voldemort cast the Killing Curse, Draco closed his eyes, unable to witness the inevitable death that would follow. He heard Harry shouting the Disarmament Charm and the shred of hope he had felt at the boy's miraculous return evaporated. The silence in the hall that followed the casting of the spells seemed to confirm his worst nightmare and it was only when a deafening roar tore the air that he dared open his eyes.

The watching crowd had swarmed forward, embracing one another and sobbing unashamedly. Utterly confused, Draco stared around in wonder, trying to make sense of the sudden change of atmosphere. His parents retreated to an unoccupied corner, ill at ease in the celebrations and as a group of people parted, Draco caught sight of hollow shell of the most feared Dark wizard of the age.

He sat down on a bench with a thump, unsure whether he should be joining in with the masses of cheering students or surrendering himself to their mercy. Above the babbling chatter, the clear, unmistakeable voice of Loony Lovegood announced,

"Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!"

Draco's head turned along with the rest as they stared in the direction of her pointing finger, so he was caught unawares when Harry's voice spoke quietly,

"Will you come with me?"

Lucius and Narcissa jumped as they also heard him speak, and they stared around them in alarm as Harry remained out of sight. Draco knew that he must be hiding beneath the Invisibility Cloak, as usual wanting no part in the attention he usually received, and extracted himself from his seat between his parents. They protested when he hurried out of the hall, but Draco didn't look back as Harry pulled him under the Cloak and guided him up the stairs.

Evidence of the battle was unavoidable as they travelled through the deserted school and more than once they had to take a different route as crumbled walls blocked their path. Draco had no idea where exactly Harry was taking him, walking in a daze as the outcome of the battle sunk in.

Eventually, Harry stopped and Draco realised that they were standing beside the very same plinth which they had sat on all that time ago after the fateful Quidditch match. The portraits lining the walls were devoid of figures, so Harry removed the cloak and sat, motioning for Draco to follow his example.

For a while neither of them spoke, and Draco struggled to think of a way to put into words the tumultuous emotions he was experiencing. Glancing sideways, he saw that Harry was staring contemplatively ahead, appeared to be in deep thought. Draco took this opportunity now that he was no longer fighting for his life to properly observe the other boy.

Harry seemed to have grown, not in terms of height, but in a very different sense. He appeared somehow more mature, more adult and not only because a dusting of black stubble had grown along his jaw. Draco felt rather intimidated in his presence and in awe of the Gryffindor until Harry spoke thoughtfully, twirling the wand between his fingers,

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Draco had expected recriminations, demands that he explain himself and suffer the consequences of his actions, not casual reminiscing. He stammered as he replied,

"Er.......yes, it was on the Hogwarts Express......._no_........in Madam Malkin's!"

"You were the first wizard of my own age I ever met and I hated you from then on."

This admission came as a shock, though really, it was entirely unsurprising. Draco recalled with a twist of embarrassment how even at eleven, he had been an arrogant bully.

Harry continued, though his tone had become extremely awkward,

"Last year it changed.........I don't know what it was, but suddenly I could see you in a different light as you struggled with the responsibility Voldemort had given you.........I pitied you and even though we were both dealing with different burdens, I felt as if you were the one person who could understand how hard it was meet everyone's expectations."

Draco felt a wave of shame wash over him and stood up abruptly, moving to one the windows and staring unseeingly out at the grounds. He couldn't look at Harry as he spoke, his thoughts being difficult enough to express without meeting the other boy's eyes.

"Why are you here with me, Harry? All your friends, your supporters, everyone who had stuck with you from the beginning are down in the hall. You should be with them, not with a......_traitor_."

He spat the last word out with painful remorse, the guilt he had been feeling ever since he had first admitted his feelings for Harry to himself coming crashing down on him. His hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep the tears at bay. It was difficult enough expressing how regretful he was, without openly breaking down about it.

Unbeknownst to him, Harry had risen from his seat on the plinth and stood next to him. He spoke quietly, his breath warm against Draco's cheek,

"You're right: you _are_ a traitor." The confirmation hit Draco with devastating force and he shrunk away from Harry. Unperturbed, the other boy continued, "You were sucked into Voldemort's circle, you acted despicably as you tried to do his bidding, you attempted to murder Dumbledore, but you never acted as if you _enjoyed_ any of it."

Harry brushed his hand against Draco's, trying to link their fingers together. Draco didn't resist the gesture and instead, turned away from the window to face Harry, possessed with an intense desire to explain himself. He was still unable to meet the distinctive green eyes and focused on Harry's shoulder, his words coming out in a rush,

"I'm sorry...........I'm sorry for everything...............for poisoning your best friend, for being part of a plan to kill Dumbledore.......you have no idea how much I wanted to confide in you, how much it hurt to lie to you last year.........."

As dawn broke, the rising sun stained the sky blood-red and suddenly the distance between them had decreased as Harry drew nearer.

Clasping both of Draco's hands in his own, Harry tilted his head back, gazing up at Draco.

"It's over. Finally, after everything, it's finished and we won."

His voice contained a note of wonder, almost as if he was having great difficulty grasping the enormity of what he had achieved. Harry smiled with such pure, unadulterated joy that it tugged tortuously at Draco's heart. He would have liked nothing more than to sink into the other boy's arms and put the past behind him, but an uneasy twisting in his stomach held him back.

Draco took a deep breath as he tried to order his thoughts.

"Harry, I.......what happened between us last year..........it wasn't a mistake, but I want you to understand that even though I intended to manipulate you, I couldn't go through with it because my feelings were too strong........I never used you.........._never_...........I'll understand if you don't want anything more to do with me.........."

"Ron was right: you _are _the world's biggest prat, Draco. Do you think I would have actively sought you out, brought you here alone just to cast you aside? Dumbledore always believed in second chances and it would be an insult to his memory if I didn't learn something from him."

Harry's tone was serious, but his eyes contained no trace of condemnation, only a fervent desire for his words to be understood. He released Draco's hands only to pull him into a close embrace. Hardly believing that despite his disgraceful behaviour last year, he had been granted forgiveness, Draco hesitated before burying his face in the untidy black hair.

How Harry had managed to cheat death not once, but _twice_ in one day was difficult to comprehend, but for now, Draco felt no curiosity to discover what had happened, not yet at least.

Feeling the warm, solid body beneath his arms, Draco clung to Harry, crushing their bodies together as if he feared that at any moment, the other boy could be taken from him. It required very little effort for both of them to shift their positions just enough to brush their mouths together.

The ghosting touch of Harry's lips on his own caused a swooping sensation in Draco's stomach and he pushed forward, forcing Harry against the wall. Returning the kiss with equal passion, Harry ran his fingers through Draco's fine hair and twining their legs together as though he too, was afraid of their reunion being interrupted.

Heart hammering, Draco drew back to take a gulp of air, Harry's own breathing coming in short gasps. They both refused to loosen their grip and contemplated each other intently as their pulses began to slow. Draco carefully examined every cut and every graze on Harry's skin, noticing the smudged traces of soot from the cursed fire they had flown through together. He realised that he must also look dishevelled, his hair falling into his eyes from when Harry had tangled his fingers in it.

"We can't stay here for much longer; people are bound to come searching for me, and if they find us like this....."

Disappointment etched across his face, Harry sighed, though made no move to escape from Draco's arms.

"Does it matter what they see? I know my intentions were the very worst when I first started to become close to you, but if you have managed to believe that I've changed, surely everyone else will begin to realise the same. We shouldn't be afraid of their reaction, not after everything we've been through."

Draco felt a rush of thrilling elation as he pictured himself and Harry, openly and unashamedly together. Experiencing a brief stab of fear when Harry didn't reply instantly, his worry was unfounded as a low, almost inaudible whisper reached his ears,

"I'm not afraid."

Leaning forward again, Draco placed a delicate kiss on Harry's lips, all the desperation from earlier dissipated as an unspoken agreement passed between them.

Draco knew that they would face a great many difficulties and a horrendous amount of gossip when they were found, but if they were able to get through war, torture and, in Harry's case, death, this would be no more strenuous than a game of Quidditch and with an even more gratifying result.

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed. I've really enjoyed writing this fic and must know the sixth book inside out and back to front by now!_

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